


Mercy In Darkness

by Darkrivertempest



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Banter, Dark, Dystopia, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Off-screen Rape, Psychological Torture, Sexual Content, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-27
Updated: 2013-02-10
Packaged: 2017-11-27 04:31:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 22,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/658038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkrivertempest/pseuds/Darkrivertempest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two broken people rescue each other amidst the suffocating darkness that comprises their lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for Ginny_lv_harry at the 2012 Lucius/Hermione fic exchange on LJ, but she dropped out. 
> 
> **Read with caution!** While the story is dark-ish, I spared the reader quite a bit when it comes to the non-con/rape scene. In fact, it's very much off-screen. Lucius' reaction to Hermione's mental state and physical being, however, could be a bit triggery.
> 
> Many thanks to my beta: Delphipsmith - you rock so hard!
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** All Harry Potter characters and canon Potter Verse belong to JK Rowling and associates. I am in no way affiliated with Warner Brothers, JK Rowling, or Scholastic. I do not make any money from the publishing or writing of this story.

It shouldn’t have been this way.

All the glory, the triumph, the absolute power of Voldemort’s victory amounted to nothing more than vain and empty promises. 

_Either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives._

How true that prophecy had been, except the wrong person was still alive. 

From the third floor balcony, Lucius Malfoy gazed into his extensive gardens in the evening dusk, his eyes narrowing and lips pursing in turn. In the past, he and Narcissa would stroll in those same gardens as twilight fell, soaking up the fragrance of night-blooming jasmine, lavender and honeysuckle. 

But that had ended more than a year ago, when the Dark Lord killed her in front of Lucius as punishment for his shortcomings. At the time, he had not dared react to the emptiness he’d witnessed in her beautiful blue eyes, left sightless by the Killing Curse. The only visible signs of Lucius’ immense distress had been the shudders of his frame while Voldemort had cast _Incendio_ on her limp body, destroying the witch who had stood by Lucius through it all. 

_“Now there is nothing to distract your attention from your duties,” the Dark Lord said with a wave of his hand._

Lucius sniffed discreetly, inhaling a whiff of the jasmine his wife had loved. No tears filled his eyes, his bottom lip did not quiver, his facial muscles did not twitch. Taking a page from Severus Snape’s book, Lucius did not deign to show any emotion at all.

* * *

“Time to find more rats!”

A delicate cup of tea in hand, Lucius paused briefly. “You know I am not allowed to go on these expeditions, Bella.” Seeing his former sister-in-law’s sneer, he quickly took a sip and replaced the china cup on the saucer.

Sneering at his declaration, Bellatrix sidled up behind his chair, wrapped strands of Lucius’ hair around her small fist and tugged hard. “Our Lord wishes for your company this night, dear brother,” she purred in his ear.

Snape, who was sitting across from Lucius, arched a brow. “I was not informed of an addition to the party.”

Bellatrix looked over at Snape and narrowed her eyes while still keeping Lucius’ head pinned at an awkward and uncomfortable angle, her wand firmly against his jaw. “He told _me_ , Snape.” 

“Did he?” Snape’s lips thinned in annoyance. “Do let go of Lucius’ hair. The Dark Lord would be quite put out if you soiled it further. You know how he likes to pet the poor wretch.”

Lucius did not react to Snape’s thinly-veiled allusion to his being Voldemort’s current plaything. He had long ago buried any vestige of pride when Draco had failed one mission too many and joined his mother in death, courtesy of Dolohov. Something had broken on the day that Draco had been murdered; something that had clung to fragile hope within the darkest corners of his soul even after Narcissa was gone. 

Now, there was nothing. No bright and shining new era to usher in the changes the Dark Lord implemented. No promised power to be given. No rewards for faithful service, only retribution for infractions, real or perceived. One did as one was told, there were no second chances. Punishment was swift, there was no such thing as mercy. 

Lucius was utterly alone.

Bellatrix tsk’d, released Lucius’ hair and violently shoved his head forward in obvious disgust. “Someday you’ll lose your precious locks, Malfoy, and then you’ll be back in your own dungeons to become part of the filth.”

A curtain of platinum hair hid Lucius’ face, for which he was glad. He merely nodded, hoping she would return to whatever malicious obsession usually occupied her time. His movements stilled when Bella ran her fingers through the strands in an obscene parody of tenderness, her razor-sharp nails nicking his scalp.

“Ickle Lucy best be ready by nine, or –”

“Mistress Lestrange, the Dark Lord wishes –”

She dropped her hand from Lucius' hair and turned sharply. “How dare you interrupt me! _Crucio!_ ”

Just inside the door Percy Weasley dropped to his knees, hitting the floor in convulsions. His dirty hands clutched at the crude collar around his neck. One of three Weasleys to survive the onslaught in the aftermath of the Dark Lord’s victory. He, like his siblings, had been gifted to certain Death Eaters, as tribute to their service. 

How Percy had survived this long was anybody’s guess. 

Bella renewed the curse as it faded and Percy writhed in pain, gasping cries when he could catch his breath.

“You’ll kill him,” Snape remarked offhandedly, glancing at the now barely-twitching ginger wizard.

Bellatrix ceased the curse and immediately turned her wand on Snape. “Why do you care, traitor?” 

“I don’t. I merely wish to avoid being saddled with the duty of finding you a replacement, should you break your toy.”

Lucius couldn’t help the slight smirk that twitched at the corner of his lips. He wisely remained hidden behind his hair. “Where are we going tonight?” he dared to ask. 

A maniacal gleam shone in Bellatrix’s eyes. “London.”

With a slight nod, Lucius whispered, “I’ll be ready at half eight.”

Bellatrix snorted. She walked over to where Percy lay whimpering, grabbed a fistful of red curls, and dragged the sobbing man out of the room, her delight in Weasley’s cries evident by her shrill laughter.

“I cannot go with you tonight.” Severus’ tone was pensive. 

Lucius tried not to let his hand shake when he picked up his cup to sip his tea once more, but knew he had failed, as the china rattled. “It matters not,” he said resignedly. 

Nothing mattered anymore.

* * *

Devoid of a wand for almost a year, Lucius stared with trepidation at the apparently abandoned Muggle house. “What is this place?” It was one thing to go into a situation armed, quite another to serve as nothing more than glorified prey for the enemy. 

Anton Dolohov shoved past him, deliberately knocking Lucius off-balance with his shoulder. “Someone of interest used to reside here, if you must know.”

Lucius was about to retort when he felt a long-fingered hand rest on his head and begin petting him. “Now, now, Dolohov,” Voldemort chided. “You mustn’t damage poor Lucius like that. He’s fragile.”

Muffled sniggers came from those gathered, grating on Lucius’ nerves. 

“Rodolphus, give Lucius your wand.”

The burly Death Eater's chuckles died and he stared at Voldemort in confusion. “My Lord?”

Voldemort’s red eyes flashed. “Give. Lucius. Your. Wand.”

Lestrange glanced between his wife and the others in uncertainty. At Bellatrix’s glare he grimaced, withdrew his wand, and gave it to the Dark Lord.

Voldemort turned the stick on its owner. “ _Crucio!_ Why did you delay? Did you think your _wife_ would allow you to deny me? She is mine! _You_ are mine!”

The group watched in uncomfortable silence as one of their own was tortured for not obeying a given order. When Voldemort tired of the wails, he uttered an abrupt _Finite Incantatem_ and handed the wand to Lucius. “Proceed inside.”

Sweat dotting his upper lip and brow, Lucius gripped the unfamiliar piece of wood and approached the innocuous-looking dwelling, stopping just short of the door. Magic was infused into the very structure – recognisable magic at that – and it made him extremely uneasy. The wards were so strong that he could not at first discern even the most minuscule flaw that would reveal the secrets they hid.

“Do not test my patience, Lucius,” Voldemort warned behind him.

Lucius nodded and set about searching the intricate patterns for a single loose thread that would allow him… there! A weakness in one of the charms meant to disguise the house from the wizarding world. Normally he wouldn’t have picked up on it; that the flaw was detectable, even though the spell-caster had imbued a great deal of their strength into the charm, could only mean one thing: the witch or wizard who cast it was weakening. 

Once he had unravelled the strongest of the protection spells, he cautiously laid his hand on the wood surface of the door. Receiving only a mild tingle, he sighed in relief. “It is now safe, my Lord.”

“You see, my friends? Lucius Malfoy is good for something,” Voldemort said patronisingly. 

Lucius dropped his head, refusing to listen to the jeers and laughter as the Death Eaters filed past him and into the house. Rodolphus stopped long enough to snatch back his wand, muttering under his breath that Lucius should’ve been killed instead of Narcissa; she would have at least provided several nights' worth of entertainment. Lucius’ fists clenched at the sordid remark. _If you dare lay a hand on my wife…_

The thought halted as abruptly as it had begun. There was no one left to harm, not anyone that Lucius cared for at least. The ache in his chest, that had subsided somewhat over the past year, flared to vicious life.

“Move.” Voldemort pushed Lucius forward.

Lucius stumbled past the entrance and winced when someone muttered a _Lumos maxima_ that illuminated the first floor living area. There was evidence that the home had been inhabited, but not recently. Debris, such as shattered glass and broken furniture, littered the floor. There were also scraps of paper and torn curtains. Scorch marks could be seen on the walls. 

“Fan out. Search everywhere. Leave nothing unchecked.” At Voldemort’s command, the Death Eaters scattered to the four corners. 

Lucius remained rooted to the spot. He’d learned long ago to stay at Voldemort’s side unless he was specifically told to do otherwise. The long scar down the back of his left thigh was evidence of that lesson. Lucius knew he was nothing more than a human shield for the Dark Lord on trips like these; in his deepest heart, he wished some foolish Muggle, or even more foolhardy wizard, would try to dispose of the powerful being and kill Lucius instead.

Bellatrix reappeared twenty minutes later, thoroughly frustrated. “My Lord, I told you he was lying!”

Voldemort bared his teeth, snarling. “I have told you never to question my judgement where Severus is concerned. Must I repeat myself?”

Bellatrix brushed her throat with stained fingertips and backed away, her face contrite. “No, my Lord. Your word is law.”

The Dark Lord narrowed his eyes. “Yet you continually contradict me. I believe a lesson is in order.” He beckoned her closer.

Lucius took some satisfaction at the tremor he observed in Narcissa’s sister. It would serve the bitch right if the Dark Lord were to _Incendio_ her on the spot. Though Lucius was never in the Dark Lord’s company when he lavished his attention on Bellatrix, it was clear the witch was fearful of going with him now. 

“Lucius, stay until the others have completed their search. I will send Snape to fetch you once he returns from my errand.” Voldemort wrapped his fingers around Bellatrix’s throat and Apparated them both away.

The snapping echo and ensuing silence unnerved Lucius. He knew there were three others in the house but he wanted little truck with them. Quietly, he moved from room to room on the first floor, pausing occasionally to open doors and peer inside. Cobwebs decorated an old pantry. A distinct smell of mildew and mould hit him strongly in the face when he opened a heavy door towards the back of the house and found a large metal box with a round glass door on the front, through which he could see some articles of Muggle clothing. He quickly shut the door and moved on, intending to return to the entryway, when he heard it.

A muffled grunt.

Several crashes from above drew Lucius’ attention. He listened intently for a few moments, watching the staircase for his fellow associates. When none appeared, he returned to the room where the large box was located and slowly opened the door, just enough to see inside without being seen himself. Soft rustling emanated from the machine. Soon, slim fingers peeked over the edge, past the round glass. They were followed by a slender arm and a shaggy-haired head. The woman – Lucius could now tell that the person was female – eased out of the cramped opening and peered around. 

She was not much to look at from Lucius’ vantage point: on the skinny side, with a wild mane of hair that fell almost to the top of her admittedly pert arse. A hodge-podge of clothing covered her body, as if she’d snatched or stolen garments when and where she could. Nothing matched, including the shoes, and most of the clothing was ill-fitting. When she dipped her hand into her right trouser pocket, however, he had to contain a gasp as she pulled out a wand.

A wand that he’d seen countless times: Bellatrix’s old curved walnut. 

“Find something, Lucius?” Rodolphus asked, startling him.

Lucius quickly glanced into the room and saw that the witch had frozen in place, her eyes wide with fear. He cleared his throat. “No. Nothing but some Muggle apparatus. The room reeks, if you must know.”

Dolohov joined Rodolphus and studied the door. “You sure, Malfoy? The Dark Lord said not to overlook anything.”

Hoping the witch had had the good sense to take the opportunity to Disillusion herself, Lucius opened the door wide with a sweep of his arm. The stench nearly bowled them over. He coughed and waved his hand for them to inspect the room. 

Both Death Eaters retreated, their arms covering their noses. “Smells like something died in there,” Dolohov choked out. He tugged on Lestrange’s arm. “Come on. There’s nothing here.”

The two of them retreated to the living room. Dolohov called to Rabastan and, once they gathered, disappeared with the crack of Apparition, leaving Lucius to fend for himself. 

Eyes watering, Lucius returned his attention to the small dank room and muttered, “Cease this putrefying odour and show yourself.”

Within seconds, the stink faded to almost nothing. Able to now peer into the room, Lucius searched the small area. Clearly she was clever, whoever she was. “Show yourself,” he said a little more forcefully.

He heard vague movement amongst the shadows and a whispered, “No.”

Shock ran through him. He knew that voice! But it couldn’t be… She was number one on their ‘most desired’ list – most desired to capture, kill, maim, or torture. The chit had evaded their best spies and even the Dark Lord himself for over a year, yet here she was, within his grasp. 

He could taste his freedom already!

“Come out, Miss Granger.” A sharp intake of air told him that he had guessed right. “They’re gone.”

“Not quite.”

Lucius spun to face Snape, his eyes widening. “I... I can explain, Severus.”

Snape arched a brow. “Is that so? And just what is it you feel a need to explain?” He darted a glance at the small room. “That you plan to do the washing for our slovenly brothers-in-arms?"

The tension grew for a moment, and then broke as Snape pushed Lucius to the side and entered the utility room. Though the light was dim, there was enough to cast shadows upon the walls. If Snape found Granger…

“I see my instincts serve me well,” came the low and seductive voice from within the shadows.

Lucius closed his eyes in resignation.

He heard a hasty _Expelliarmus_ , followed by an indignant yelp, then Snape was dragging a thrashing woman out by her waist. He deposited her next to Lucius and aimed his wand at the both of them. “You were saying, Lucius? You can explain... this?” His voice dripped disgust.

Lucius dared a sidelong glance at the witch. She was even more dishevelled up close. She turned to look at him and he frowned in confusion. The innocence that had previously clung to her during her earlier ‘visit’ to Malfoy Manor what seemed like ages ago was gone, replaced by a hard vacancy behind her eyes. He knew that look well. It was common for those of the wizarding world who opposed the Dark Lord, those Muggle-borns and blood traitors that fought against every implementation of the new regime, to acquire that brutal emptiness from too many defeats. This witch had it in spades. But what disturbed him most was not the filth of her heritage, nor the disaster of her person. No, what caused him real fear was the knowledge that his own gaze reflected the hopelessness of hers.

“Well?” Snape barked, startling Lucius and Hermione from their intense study of one another.

Lucius swallowed. At heart, he was a survivor, no matter what it took, and it would take great finagling to dissuade Snape from handing him over to Voldemort. “I heard a noise and was set to investigate, when you arrived.”

“How convenient,” Snape drawled, clearly not believing him. “One could possibly accept that as truth. However, having been here for quite some time, I know it is not.”

Coldness gripped Lucius as he realised the dire straits of his situation. His face remained impassive, but his stomach crawled with nausea. Voldemort was not one to forgive a betrayal and Snape would delight in telling him of this one. Had he paid closer attention to the signature of the wards, would he have recognised Snape’s hand in things? If this was a test, then Lucius had failed miserably. The Dark Lord did love to indulge in such ‘games’, to have his Death Eaters prove their loyalty again and again. 

“I understand,” Lucius said quietly. If he was to meet his end, he would go with the last shred of dignity he still possessed.

Snape snorted. "You understand nothing." He turned his attention to Granger. “You were foolish to return here.”

Lucius could feel her bristle next to him. “I had my reasons,” she ground out, her voice harsh from disuse.

“No doubt.” Snape studied her at great length. “Give me your hand.”

True panic finally brought fire to the woman’s eyes. “No!” She tried to back away, but Snape latched onto her right wrist before she could get very far. 

She struggled for a moment, before Snape pressed the tip of his wand to the underside of her wrist, causing her to cease moving. “Lucius, your right hand. Place it over hers.”

Lucius puzzled over Snape’s behaviour. What was the man doing? Why did he not kill Granger, and haul Lucius himself before the Dark Lord on charges of treason? Was this another test? Perhaps all was not lost. Hesitantly, Lucius laid his hand over Granger’s, surprised at how cool and thin her fingers were. Surprise gave way to pain as the coolness changed to a searing, burning agony that shot through his arm.

“Stop!” Lucius shouted. He twisted his hand and arm, trying to let go of her hand, but to no avail. She was obviously feeling the same sensations; he could hear suppressed whimpers as they both struggled vainly to separate their hands. "What are you doing?" But the pain only intensified, driving them even to clawing at their respective forearms and leaving trails of scratches. 

Even as he and Granger fought in silence against the strange force holding them together, Lucius saw that Snape was performing a range of intricate wand manoeuvres over their linked hands, muttering a spell under his breath in what sounded suspiciously like Gaelic. A silver and gold thread materialized and wove itself snakelike around their arms, glowing brighter and brighter. Then, as Snape uttered the last syllable and lowered his wand, it sank into their skin where Lucius felt it throb with a life of its own. 

A last brief flare of pain and then his hand was suddenly free from Granger’s. “What the bloody hell was that?” he snarled, not caring whether it earned Snape’s ire.

Snape tucked his wand inside the cuff of his robes, crossed his arms and nodded at both of them. “As much as this does not excite me, you are now bonded to one another for a year and a day.”

“What?” Granger's echoing sentiment came only a second after Lucius' own. He turned and looked at her and she stared back at him, clearly as appalled as he was.

“Is this the Dark Lord’s doing, Severus?” Lucius asked. Voldemort had many ways of degrading him on a daily basis, but this was beyond comprehension. Unless he simply found amusement in permanently linking the proudest pure-blood among his followers to a Mudblood, this was beyond the pale.

Snape said nothing, only studied Lucius pensively. Finally, having apparently decided on something, he said, “Miss Granger cannot enter Malfoy Manor on her own. Her previous ‘visit’ was facilitated only because those in residence wished her to enter. Under normal circumstances, the ancestral blood wards would refuse her entry and kill her in a most gruesome manner. However, since she is now bonded to you, she may accompany us back to headquarters without triggering any type of spells that would alert others to her presence.”

“I’m not going to Malfoy Manor!” she spat, rubbing the red criss-cross marks that laced her right forearm. "Once was enough."

Lucius frowned. “Why should she return with us? Were you not sent here to kill her?”

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, as though Lucius were a particularly stupid First Year. “I recently came into some information that has allowed me to track Granger’s whereabouts. I have known of her movements for the past two months. If I wanted to kill her, she would have been dead before she drew her next breath on the first day I found her.”

Granger kicked a kitchen cabinet in a fit of pique. “I knew I shouldn’t have used the wand,” she muttered. 

“That is not what gave you away,” Snape said. “My information came from a very reliable source and had nothing to do with your use of Bellatrix’s wand.”

“I travel alone. Who could possibly –”

“Did you have to bind us, Severus?” Lucius gritted out. “I don’t care how you knew where she was. I want to know why I was forced into a bond with a Mudblood!” His voice rose to a shout on the last word.

“As if I want to be bound to you!” Granger snarled.

Lucius turned cold grey eyes on her. “You should be grateful a pure-blood would deign to look at you!”

“When I imagined all the wretched things that could happen in my life, this was never one of them!”

“Then you lack imagination!”

An amused chuckle cut Lucius and Hermione’s bickering short. “Listen to the pair of you. You act as if you’ve been married for more years than I care to count.”

Lucius could feel his mouth twist in a moue of disgust. “When considering this termagant, marriage is not a word… it’s a sentence.” 

“I’ve come across rotting bodies that were less offensive than you,” she snapped back. 

Lucius was about to let loose another scathing retort, when he heard the distinct crack of Apparition. Without another word Snape shoved them into the utility room together and shut the door tightly after them.

There was movement outside and soon voices could be heard, though Lucius could not identify the speakers. Granger chose that moment to whimper. That would not do. Lucius stepped behind her, placed his hand over her mouth and pulled her close against him, spitting a wayward strand of brown hair out of his mouth. She fought him at first, but stilled as the voices came closer. Words were inaudible; probably a Muffliato Charm, he thought.

Figures passed by the sliver of light that shone under the door and Granger began to tremble. Lucius wondered if she had discerned any of the conversation; perhaps if he had, he would be trembling as well. As it was, he had not, and he was distracted from further speculation by the softness of Granger’s cheek under his fingers. He felt her swallow and had a disturbing urge to caress the skin of her slender, white neck. 

The door handle turned slightly. Granger stifled a gasp, and Lucius felt a tear drop onto the fingers covering her mouth. He had to calm her, or they would be found. “Shhh,” he whispered, so low he could barely hear himself. 

She nodded slowly and actually pressed back further into his embrace.

The handle stopped moving. They heard a sharp slap, followed by a thud against the outer wall. An angry voice rose and then suddenly fell silent. Another scuffle and several cracks. When there had been no noise of any sort for more than ten minutes, Lucius relaxed his hold on Granger and let out a pent up breath. 

“What happened?” she asked softly. 

“I don’t know.” He was about to offer a theory when the door flew open, revealing Snape swaying in the doorway, his face covered with cuts and bruises.

Without thought, Lucius stepped forward and caught the other wizard before he hit the floor.   
Surprisingly, Granger came to his assistance, supporting Snape on the other side, and together they pulled him into the room and let him rest against the wall. 

Lucius noted Snape’s rapidly swelling left eye. “What happened?”

Snape withdrew his wand, aimed it at his face, muttered an _Episkey_ , and the swelling around his eye decreased noticeably. “The Dark Lord is displeased with me.” He touched the side of his nose and winced. “I told him that Miss Granger had evaded capture once more.”

Granger sat back on her heels. “Why would you do that for me?”

Snape openly stared at Granger, as though surprised she did not already know the answer. “Because the task is not yet complete.”

Lucius turned at her sharp breath. “What is he talking about?”

“What is it?” she asked, ignoring Lucius’ question, all her attention on the black-haired wizard on the floor. "What have we missed?"

“The snake,” Snape said.

“Will someone tell me what in Merlin's name is going on?” Lucius ground out. 

Snape closed his eyes, obviously weary. Granger glanced at Lucius. “Horcruxes," she said. "The Dark Lord made Horcruxes for himself, to achieve immortality.” Tears welled in her eyes but she brushed them away and cleared her throat. “Harry died when the one within him was destroyed.”

“Potter was a Horcrux?” Lucius’s legs gave way, and he dropped to the floor next to Snape, his mind racing. “Zeus’ arse.”

Did Voldemort know this about Potter? Of course he did; that’s why he was so insistent upon killing the boy himself. And, if Lucius was correct in his understanding about ‘the snake’, then Nagini was also a Horcrux. What would happen when – if – the serpent perished? The vile thing stayed close to the Dark Lord almost at all times, so how would a person go about killing it? So many angles to consider, and if he were not sitting down at that moment, he would surely have slumped to the ground in a dead faint.

This changed everything.


	2. Chapter 2

“If the Dark Lord finds out that she’s here, we’ll all be killed!” Lucius whispered harshly as they picked their way through subterranean tunnels that emptied out into the Malfoy Manor cellar.

Snape, in the lead, grunted. “Then you’d be wise to keep her hidden to the best of your abilities, hadn’t you, Lucius?”

“And where do you suggest I put her? In Narcissa’s wardrobe?”

Hermione, close behind Snape, hissed furiously, “I’m not sitting in –”

“Shut up, Mudblood,” Lucius snapped. “As if I’d put you where you could soil my wife’s things.”

Snape came to an abrupt halt, causing Granger to run into his back and Lucius to collide into her, sandwiching her between them. Snape turned and pushed Granger so hard that she stumbled back against Lucius, who reflexively grabbed her arm to keep her from falling. 

“Narcissa is dead, Malfoy. Your _wife_ is right here. Get used to the idea.”

“Never,” Lucius said, seething. He looked down at the woman pressed against him and dropped her arm with a sneer. 

She returned the haughty disdain in full measure, as if she had the right. As if she actually thought she was _better_ than he was! Lucius’ hand itched to slap the expression off her face. The urge was interrupted, however, by Snape wrapping his hands around Lucius’ throat.

“Listen well, for I will only say this once.” Snape’s black eyes glittered in the blue light given off by the _Lumos_. “I am the right hand of the Dark Lord. It would behoove you to follow my every command. Though I will not reveal to you the reason, it is imperative that Miss Granger remain hidden and amongst the living. You will treat her as if she were precious to you. Do you understand, or has your time as the Dark Lord’s _pet_ rendered you an imbecile?”

The long, spindly fingers tightened around Lucius’ windpipe until he saw black spots floating in his vision. He tried to draw breath to answer, but Snape pressed harder. 

Granger placed her hand on Snape’s forearm and the pressure eased almost imperceptibly. “Let him go.”

Snape glared at her. “I will do as I –”

“He can’t answer you if he can’t breathe,” she argued. “Besides, how can he keep me safe if you throttle him every time he puts you in a snit?”

Had Lucius been free of Snape’s hold, he would have laughed at her audacity. As if hearing his thoughts, Snape squeezed one last time and let go. Lucius coughed and gasped. The indignity of having to owe her burned his mind as badly as the air burned his throat.

“Watch your cheek, Miss Granger. This is not Hogwarts and some people would rather cut out your tongue than allow you to speak again.” Snape turned in a flourish of robes and flapped off through the narrow tunnels once more.

Lucius rubbed his throat and swallowed painfully. “Brute,” he wheezed, and coughed again.

“He’ll be lucky if I don’t cut _his_ tongue out,” Granger muttered. She looked Lucius over with a grave expression. “Will you be all right?”

He scowled at her. “Don’t concern yourself on my account.”

She rolled her eyes. “Fine. Shall I just pity you then?”

“You’re more pitiful than I.”

“I could believe that if you hadn't spent the last year being a pathetic lapdog.”

“How dare –” His tirade was cut short when she pressed the tip of her wand against his jaw.

“Oh, look. You don’t have a wand and I do.”

Lucius licked his lips but otherwise made no move. “That’s not your wand. I’m surprised it even functions in the hands of a Gryffindor.”

Granger grimaced. “It takes a little finagling, if you must know.” She tapped the wood insolently against his face. “But in the end, it does as I wish.” 

“Does it? And how long did it take you to accomplish that?” he asked with a smirk. 

“None of your business,” she answered archly. She removed the wand and secured it in a pocket of her trousers. “Come on, we’ll lose Snape.” She turned away and followed the path the dark wizard had taken.

Lucius was only a step behind her. “He’s not gone very far, and I know these tunnels extremely well. They are, after all, part of my property.” 

She snorted. “Don’t you mean the Dark Lord’s property?”

Infuriated by both her insinuation and her presence, Lucius seized the witch by the arm and jerked her to a halt, yanking her around to face him. “Make no mistake," he said angrily. “These are _my_ lands, _my_ home. I am merely lacking a wand to…” But he did not finish his thought. It was ludicrous, this deluded notion that he was only ‘allowing’ Voldemort to reside in his home until an opportunity presented itself to evict him. Examine the delusion too closely and what little remained of his survival instinct would vanish completely. Best to keep his thoughts buried where only the most powerful of Legilimens could ferret them out. And since the Dark Lord did not see Lucius as a threat, and Snape believed him a bit feeble-minded since the deaths of his wife and son, there was no possibility the thoughts would resurface. He would give them no reason to. Let them think as they will.

“To what?” she asked when he remained silent. 

“Nothing.” Lucius released her arm and gave her a slight push. “Go on.”

She made an exasperated sound but obeyed. They travelled in silence until they came to a faint rippling in the air: the barrier that would be tested by their impromptu bond. Lucius, of course, passed with ease through the blood wards. On the other side he turned and waited.

Granger remained just shy of the invisible shield, clearly unwilling to risk herself.

Lucius sneered. “I have not lost what little freedom I had as well as my sanity for naught. Pass through, girl!” 

He watched her steel herself, taking several deep breaths, before practically running through the wards and nearly colliding with him, forcing him to catch her. When he found himself holding a panting Granger he firmly put her from him, shaking her a little. It was only a matter of minutes before the curse would take effect and her blood would begin to boil in her veins if she was not properly bound to a member of the Malfoy family, or granted access, as such was the case with Snape, Voldemort and rest of the Death Eaters. 

“Well?” he barked. Despite his show of confidence, he was by no means certain that an unwilling bond would suffice to protect her. "How do you feel?"

Trembling, she gazed at her hands and then looked at Lucius, a hint of wonder in her expression. “It worked. It felt like passing through an ice-cold shower, only to find it was pleasantly warm on the other side.” She gave him a tentative smile. 

He nodded. Though her presence hadn’t activated any spells, the real test was yet to come. Attempting to keep Granger hidden indefinitely could prove fatal to all involved. 

Surprisingly, he found he was quite willing to go to such lengths, despite knowing the potential consequences. Yes, there was the threat from Snape, whose black gaze could chill any Muggle and most of the wizarding world. There was also the inconvenient bond that had been foisted upon him, and upon Granger as well; if the Dark Lord found out about that – no matter who had initiated it – there would be no leniency. That alone was a powerful motive for secrecy. Lucius had often longed for death in the past year, but now that it was on his doorstep, his yearning for the afterlife was tempered by the suspicion that life might not yet be done with him. 

Perhaps it was curiosity that prompted him to risk his soul, such as it was, for the sake of the woman next to him. For he knew there were worse punishments than death that the Dark Lord could dole out; Lucius had been privy to his disciplining of lesser men and wizards and some of the memories could still wring a shudder from him. 

Contemplating his narrow range of options, Lucius caught up with Snape, Granger a step behind him. “Snape, have sense. How exactly am I to hide a Mudbl –”

“Silence!” Snape hissed, gesturing them to a halt just outside a heavy iron door. Lucius recognized it as one that emptied out into the cellar-cum-dungeon, currently unoccupied. Wand in hand, Snape murmured several spells and, obviously determining there was no immediate threat, opened the door cautiously and led them past the row of dank cells to the main gate at the foot of the steps. 

“Wait here.” Snape went through the gate and strode purposefully up the stairs. At the top he turned to the right and disappeared.

Weak light filtered down the stairs into the corridor from the floor above, softly illuminating Granger’s dirty and smudged face. Lucius found himself thinking that if she weren't so grubby and dishevelled, she'd be rather pretty. “When was the last time you bathed?” Lucius asked her softly.

His question clearly startled her. “A-about two weeks ago? It’s not exactly a luxury I can afford.”

Lucius frowned. He had spent little time in the Muggle world, but he did know that basic necessities such as showers, toilets and places of rest were available to the general public free of charge, if one knew where to look. “Surely you could have visited a hostel of some sort?”

Granger gave him a curious look. “I probably don’t want to know how you know about hostels.” She shook her head. “I won’t bring danger to those that shelter me. I stay nowhere longer than a night. I prefer to remain hidden and alone.”

“You know about the price on your head.” 

She nodded and glanced at the expanse behind them, then shuddered and clutched at her right arm. 

Something about Snape's words earlier bothered Lucius, and if Snape would not explain maybe he could coax it out of the witch. He could play the charmer when he needed to. “I find it highly unlikely that Snape just happened to have information concerning your whereabouts on a certain night, not without torture of someone – probably one of your friends – involved.” Lucius lifted an eyebrow at her grimace. Still so sensitive... he would have expected her to be thoroughly hardened by all she'd been through. “Yet you allowed yourself to be taken without a fight. Why?”

She bit her lip, and for the briefest moment Lucius was transfixed by the sight of her tongue peeking out to wet her lips before she spoke. “There are no friends left for him to torture, so I’m just as curious as you are regarding how he obtained knowledge of my position. As to why I haven’t fought harder against all this? Before Harry left us that night,” she whispered, almost choking on her words, “he told me to trust Snape, no matter what. No matter what ugly, vile things I’d thought he’d done, it was imperative that I trust the Professor.”

Lucius snorted. “Potter said that?” Ridiculous. The boy had been nothing more than a puppet, a slaughtered lamb, doing as Dumbledore had bid him.

“Yes,” she said quietly, staring into the darkness surrounding the cells. “Harry said Snape had given him something after he fled from Hogwarts, something personal that confirmed where his loyalties lie.”

"Did he now?" This was extremely interesting. Knowing Snape’s true loyalties was key to staying alive. Lucius had often wondered where his one-time friend stood, what with all those years living in Dumbledore’s shadow. After Potter’s untimely death, however, he had assumed Snape had been the Dark Lord’s man all along. But if not, if he could be trusted…

The man whose nature he was pondering reappeared at the gate and opened it. “The Dark Lord is closeted with Bellatrix and the others are licking their wounds in their quarters. I will cast a Disillusionment Spell on you both and you will follow me.” 

"But –" Granger began.

Snape fixed her with his black glare. "I will cast a Disillusionment Spell. And you will both. Follow. Me. Is that clear?"

A few muttered words and Lucius felt a weightlessness flow over the entirety of his body. He looked at where his hands should be and saw nothing. It was a strong spell, of that he was certain. Snape might be many things, but he was more than competent when it came to casting.

They moved quietly and as quickly as they dared, given the current company in residence. Up three flights of stairs, down a long shadowed gallery, past paintings of ancient Malfoys who muttered their dislike of a Half-blood roaming around the Manor at night. Lucius idly wondered what they would say if they could see him, and Granger next to him. He decided it was quite fortunate that they could not, for they would surely have raised an alarm. Until he knew for certain whether Snape could be trusted, he would, as Snape had advised earlier, at least feign that Granger was vital to his survival. 

All Lucius’ previous thoughts flew out of his head when they stopped in front of a familiar set of oak double doors. His despair and ire gave him the strength to protest. “No! Not here!”

Snape eyed him contemptuously. "So much for the famous Malfoy courage," he said softly, and placed his hand on the doorknob. “Yes, here. It is the only wing of the house that the Dark Lord, and the others for that matter, have not visited.”

Lucius’ vision tunnelled. It was all he could do to remain upright as the door to Draco’s suite of rooms swung open. A breath of air brought with it the scent that had always clung to his son, and Lucius’ eyes filled with tears. 

“Please, no,” he whispered brokenly. He barely registered a small hand slip into his and squeeze.

“Is there no other place we can stay?” he heard Granger ask softly as the Disillusionment spell dissipated. “It’s obvious this place is upsetting to him.”

There was a loud sniff, and Lucius was horrified to discover it came from him. 

Snape glared at them both and waited by the door, unyielding. “I am not in the habit of coddling Lucius, Miss Granger. Inside, now!”

She jumped slightly at the sharpness of the order and all but dragged Lucius inside the opulent chamber. He followed, unresisting, and she deposited him on the window seat that faced east. 

The room overwhelmed him; the smells, the personal items left behind… the memories. Everything that had defined Draco as he grew from toddling child to a young man – _young Death Eater_ , his thoughts reminded him cruelly – was present within these rooms: the first Snitch he’d caught shone brilliantly from where it rested in a glass-fronted cabinet; the set of dress robes he was to wear the day he was murdered still hung in the armoire, visible through the half-open door; the bedclothes were turned down as if the boy has just risen from sleep. Lucius cleared his throat and surreptitiously wiped at his wet eyes. Thankfully, Granger said nothing, only sat quietly next to him, still holding onto his hand.

Snape stood before them, arms crossed, scowl in place. “This area will be under a Notice-Me-Not Charm. Anything stronger and it will draw the attention of those we do not wish to become aware of her presence. Miss Granger will not leave these rooms unless she accompanies me. She will also hand over her wand, as any spells cast with this particular one in this vicinity, would alert the true owner.” He held out his hand, waiting. 

Obviously reluctant, Granger withdrew Bellatrix’s old wand from her pocket and gave it to Snape, who opened his robe and carefully slid the stick into his breast pocket. He pointed to the massive hearth near the overlarge four-poster bed. “Lucius, you will have Floo access only between here and your bedroom. I would prefer to have you stay here as well, but we both know the Dark Lord would become suspicious were you to go missing for an extended time. You may visit Miss Granger as time allows, but under no circumstances are you to stay the night here. I trust I will not need to repeat myself?”

"As if I would wish to the night," Lucius said coldly, and dropped her hand. 

Granger stiffened and crossed her arms. “How long am I to stay here?” she asked Snape. “How am I supposed to kill Nagini?”

Snape’s discomfiture was evident and he paused for what seemed a long time before he answered. “I will provide the means," he said finally. "That is all you need to know for now.” He moved towards the door, pausing briefly. “I will send a house-elf with a light meal.”

Lucius stood and made his way over to the taller wizard. He had to know, had to gain some true insight as to Snape’s plan. 

“Whose side are you really on, Severus?” Lucius asked, keeping his voice low enough that the girl could not hear them.

Snape’s lip curled in contempt. “As a Slytherin, Malfoy, I would think you’d know.” He smirked and opened the door. “My own.”

* * *

Although he was not required to see the girl every day, Lucius found himself Flooing to Draco’s rooms each evening. He told himself that he wanted to make sure that she was not disturbing his son’s things, that she hadn’t defiled them. 

In the deepest part of him, however, the truth had always prevailed, even if it was unpalatable. And the truth, he finally admitted, was that he found her intriguing, as if she were a puzzle he must solve before time ran out. He mused one night, as he lay in his bed, that had he not been placed in Slytherin, he most definitely would have been placed in Ravenclaw, for he burned with curiosity. Defect of a Hogwarts education, he supposed. And she satisfied that almost obsessive curiosity. 

One morning, two weeks after Granger had been captured, he awoke to screams emanating from below. He methodically washed and dressed in his usual impeccable fashion, for the Dark Lord would be sure to notice any change in his routine, and made his way to the study, which was the source of the cries. There, in a mess of his own vomit and piss, lay Percy Weasley, his vacant eyes denoting his final freedom from Bellatrix’s cruel and vicious tactics. 

Lucius swallowed reflexively to ease the bile rising in his throat. Though he had always disliked the family on principle, still they were pure-bloods and now the Weasleys had been reduced to only two: George, the surviving twin, and that dragon-keeper brother of his, Lucius couldn’t recall the wizard’s name. Pius Thicknesse had remained the puppet Minister of Magic and had thus been gifted with George for services rendered. The Carrows had claimed the other more brutish-looking ginger after the final victory. They had plans for him, they’d said. Lucius had no idea if that particular Weasley still lived but he sincerely doubted it, as the Carrows were notoriously ruthless and ofttimes more depraved than Bellatrix herself. 

As for the rest? He had witnessed the mother and only daughter die at Bella’s hands in the Great Hall during the final battle. The other twin – Frank? Fred? – had died protecting Percy, which in the end had been all for naught. The youngest Weasley boy had perished in the Fiendfyre that had almost claimed Draco in the fabled Room of Requirement. Lucius had heard that Fenrir had fully infected the oldest boy and that he now ran with the wolves in the north, but Greyback was a notorious liar so Lucius didn’t put much faith in the rumours. The more likely scenario was that Fenrir had decided to eat the boy on a whim. Arthur had been seized after his wife was killed and handed to Nagini so that she could finish the task at which she’d failed two years prior. Lucius had seen the beginning, but hadn’t remained to see the end result. 

Now, he continued to stare at the body of Percy Weasley, unsure of what he was seeking. He bent down on one knee to see if the magical restraining collar was still in place when he heard a movement behind him, causing him to stiffen.

“He was boring me,” Bellatrix cooed as she sidled up against Lucius’ back. She lowered herself to his level, wrapped her hands around his waist and leaned into him, rubbing her cheek against his shoulder. “I want a new toy.”

Lucius closed his eyes and breathed deeply, willing himself to remain calm. “I’m sure the Dark Lord would provide –”

“He said I shan’t have another.” He could tell she was pouting. She buried her nose underneath his hair, and he had to fight the urge to turn around and rip her head off. When she licked his nape, he stood abruptly, breaking her hold on him. “You smell different.”

“Do I?” Damn it! “It must be the new soap Tibby procured for me.”

She rose and moved around to face him. “That worthless house-elf never provides _me_ with anything new.” Her eyes narrowed in intense study. “But I don’t think it’s merely a new cleanser that has you shining as bright as the sun, dear brother.”

He arched a brow, trying to feign boredom while mentally rushing through possible scenarios that the madwoman might accept as an explanation. He was saved by the appearance of Snape.

“Bella. The Dark Lord requests your presence.” The dark wizard gave her a smirk. "I would not keep him waiting, if I were you." 

The witch actually appeared panicked by this summons. “But I haven’t –”

“Now.”

She sent Snape a hateful look and quickly strode out of the study. Lucius released the breath he hadn't realised he’d been holding. 

Snape eyed him critically. “I’ve told the Dark Lord that I’ve placed a Tracking Spell upon you. This should suffice as an explanation for any differences.” He glanced at the young wizard on the floor and his lips thinned. “Madness,” he whispered. 

“Has it ever been sane?” Lucius murmured dispassionately. Thinking back on the past twenty years he could honestly say no, though it had seemed different at the beginning. 

“You’ve been given a reprieve today,” Snape said, his voice oddly flat. “Spend it wisely.” He turned and practically fled from the study.

* * *

“What are you doing here so early?” Granger asked when Lucius stepped from the hearth. 

Lucius had a retort poised on the tip of his tongue, but fell silent as he took in her appearance. She had apparently recently bathed, for her skin was clean and the tangled mop masquerading as hair seemed somewhat tamed. A hunter-green dressing gown wrapped her small frame, the sash tied snugly around her slender waist – and he realised with a start that it was Draco’s. 

“Take it off,” he ground out, advancing on her.

She clutched the fabric to her chest. “There’s nothing else to wear! I was about to wash the clothes I had, but I doubt they’ll survive another scrubbing. It’s not like I have a wand to cast Cleansing Spells.” 

Lucius clenched and unclenched his fists. He wanted to rant and rave about the injustice of a Mudblood wearing his pure-blood son’s clothing. He wanted to rip the robe from her body. He wanted to throw her skinny arse out of the balcony window. He wanted to kiss her senseless, taste those plump lips...

Blinking, Lucius quickly backed away from her and rubbed a hand across his face. What the bloody hell? Kiss the Mudblood? Where the hell had that come from? He glanced at his right arm, sensing the criss-cross pattern underneath his skin even if he couldn’t see it. The threads pulsed and throbbed. Just what kind of bond had Snape shackled them with? 

“I would’ve asked for more clothes, but I know how dangerous it is, my just being here,” she explained, still clutching at the dressing gown. “I didn't want to cause any trouble. But if you'd rather I wear something else, you’ll have to get it for me.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to say he'd rather she traipse about in all her naked glory, but he quickly rid himself of that image as best he could. “That will have to do for now. I’ll have Snape procure you some clothing.”

She stepped closer and laid a hand on his still-throbbing arm. “I’m sorry, truly," she said softly. "I know how important Draco was to you.”

Lucius deftly removed her hand. “Spare me your attempts to dissemble. It offends me. It is well-known you two hated each other.” 

A look of hurt flashed in her eyes briefly but was quickly replaced with scorn. “If I said anything to offend you, let me assure you, it was purely intentional.”

So, the kitten had claws, did she? “What you do or do not _say_ is irrelevant. Your mere presence offends me.” 

“I should be upset at your asinine statements, but I’m not. I’m just surprised that you can string two words together, and that you have enough of a backbone left to spew them out.”

“I have a very _impressive_ backbone, Miss Granger," he said with a smirk. "One you will never be privy to see.”

“You have delusions of adequacy.”

“A sharp tongue does not signify a keen mind.”

 _That_ caused her to shake with fury. “You are living proof that shit can sprout legs and walk!”

"Obscenity, Miss Granger? Surely you can do better than that."

"If I had a better opponent, I might need to. As it is..."

This was getting old. “I have often thought you were a colossal pain in my neck. Now, I have a much _lower_ opinion of you.” 

He suddenly realised that all the while they had been trading epithets, they had been slowly moving towards one another and they were now standing toe-to-toe. 

Granger raised her chin, looked him in the eye and said very sweetly, “If you grab your ears and pull really hard, you might be able to remove your head from your arse.” 

In retrospect, it was not the wisest of decisions. He could blame it on the bond, the unbelievably high tension of the situation, or even the alignment of the planets. But in the end, when he kissed her, he knew he had only himself to blame.

She struggled initially, but once he swept his tongue over her bottom lip, she became pliant in his arms and moaned. Lucius tasted mint on her breath as he slipped his tongue between her parted lips, tracing her teeth and delighting in the needy sounds she was making. 

His gentle hold soon escalated to something more forceful, his body clamouring for desires he had long thought gone forever. He desperately wanted to feel this woman cling to him as if he were her only hope, as if he mattered in a world that had forgotten him, as if he were still a man and worthy of touch. When the need for air caused them to pause in their caresses, Lucius pulled back and gazed into umber eyes, drowsy with desire. 

“This changes nothing,” he managed.

She blinked once. “No, of course not.”

He stepped away, but kept her right hand clasped in his. “It cannot change anything.”

“I understand,” she whispered. 

Did he imagine it, or did she squeeze his fingers briefly before letting go? She looked so courageous, standing there in nothing but a dressing gown, surrounded by certain death yet still capable of bestowing sympathy upon a shell of a wizard who had hated her kind since he spoke his first word. The pull he felt towards her was loathsome and rapturous by turns. 

He hated it.

But he hated the Dark Lord more. 

Lucius left before his baser needs won out. It was not often he was left to his own devices and he intended to take full advantage of it – by becoming completely inebriated.


	3. Chapter 3

Lucius placed a large sack on the bed in front of Granger. “Snape had Tibby procure these.” He gave her body a lengthy perusal. “I estimated your sizes.”

She nodded her thanks and disappeared into the loo. She returned a few minutes later, dressed but tugging at the half sleeves of her shirt in a vain bid to lengthen them. “The shirt is a bit tight, but everything else fits.”

And fit it did. Perhaps he had guessed her sizes too well. The denim jeans hugged her ample arse, yet flared around the ankles. The white and lavender top moulded to her modest bosom. He had not thought to mention underclothing, and her lack of a bra was obvious. He wondered if she had noticed that her nipples were quite pert, but she seemed so preoccupied with pulling her sleeves down that she probably had not. 

The longer he stared, the tighter his trousers felt. “Do stop tugging on the shirtsleeves, Miss Granger. You’ll rip the fabric and I won’t risk discovery for the sake of your vanity to obtain another top.”

She immediately stopped and crossed her arms over her chest, blocking what Lucius considered a fascinating view. “Sorry. I… I just don’t like my arms bare. Thank you, though. For the clothes.”

He moved closer. “Why?”

She shrank back. “Why what?”

“Why do you not like having your arms bare?” He grasped her wrist and tried to wrest her arm down.

“Stop it! You know why!” She struggled with him, but it was a losing battle from the beginning as he had height and weight on her.

He forced her hand down, exposing her forearms to the weak sunlight in the room. There, in puckered red flesh, the word _Mudblood_ was carved into her skin. It was crudely drawn, with jagged edges. He could only imagine the agony she had felt as it was inflicted upon her. Bella’s dagger was cursed to prevent any wound it caused from healing, but this wound – though ugly – had been healed to the best of her abilities. How this slip of a girl had countered Bella's Dark magic, he would never know. 

Lucius released his grip. He could not say that he was sorry, for at the time he truly had not cared what Bellatrix was doing to anyone other than his immediate family. Nor could he empathize with her, not really, as he’d never been on the receiving end of anything stronger than a harsh slap or kick, the injury to his thigh notwithstanding. To presume he knew what kind of pain Bella’s demented version of knife-play caused would be insulting. And Lucius, at least in the past year, had grown increasingly weary of insults, even towards those he thought beneath him. 

Instead, he said, “Tibby will be here shortly with lunch.” 

Granger, her arm cradled against her chest, gave a hesitant nod. 

Unable to bear the uncomfortable atmosphere any longer, he left without another word.

* * *

“What do you miss the most?”

Lucius gazed out of the window at the east gardens. It had been a month since that impromptu kiss with Granger. He tried to remember how Narcissa’s kisses had felt, once upon a time, but the memory was fading. “I miss my family,” he said quietly. 

His answer caused Granger to cringe, and she pulled her legs up so that she could wrap her arms around them, her toes peeking from beneath the hem of Draco’s dressing gown. Lucius had long ago decided that someone should get some use out of it and gave her permission to continue wearing it. “I miss my family as well. My friends, too.”

He turned and watched her for a moment in the grey twilight. “Yaxley and Dolohov searched ceaselessly for your parents.”

She averted her eyes. “They’re gone. That’s why the house was empty.”

“Dead?”

“I don’t know,” she confessed with a shrug. “With the state of the world, perhaps they’re better off if they are.”

“Yes,” he agreed softly and returned to stare at the scenery. “The dead are the lucky ones.”

* * *

“Tell me about the Horcruxes,” Lucius said to her several days later as they sipped tea in the late evening hours.

They had spent a good deal of time together, as Lucius' attendance on the Dark Lord allowed. There was no pattern to it: some days Lucius was required to accompany him a full twenty-four hours and other days he was ignored completely. Voldemort’s whims were erratic at best and lethal at worst. Snape had been adept in casually letting Lucius know when he had been given a reprieve for any length of time by way of a tersely-worded order or a telling look. At those times, rather than remaining in his rooms where he could sit and brood over the Dark Lord’s next move, he visited Granger.

He told himself, quite vehemently sometimes, that he was simply bored and that her presence kept the darker thoughts at bay. He refused to admit that he found her intelligent discussions on any given subject stimulating, engaging, and not a little provocative. She dared him to reach beyond the world that had trapped him so mercilessly within its grasp. To feel that fragile thing that he had once thought destroyed: hope. 

She nibbled on the edge of her thumb. “What do you already know about them?”

“I know how one is created,” Lucius said with a hard look. “I am unsure how many the Dark Lord made, but knowing his penchant for killing, I would not be surprised if there were a hundred or more.”

Her eyes widened. “I don’t think a person’s soul could be split that many times.” She looked quite uneasy. “At least, I hope not.”

“Many people have underestimated _him_ , Miss Granger. I caution you not to do the same.” 

“Duly noted,” she said with a nod. “But we believe there were six that he purposely created.”

“Purposely?”

“Harry,” she whispered, looking away. “The night Voldemort tried to kill Harry as a baby, the Killing Curse rebounded due to Harry's protection from his mother’s sacrifice. When that happened, a piece of Voldemort's soul was trapped inside him. Harry didn’t know it, of course, not until towards the end of sixth year. That’s when I began to suspect as well. He was obsessed with the Dark spells in Snape’s Potions book, the ones that could control others, injure or kill. I don’t think Harry truly knew what those spells would do, but he would get this strange light in his eyes, a red glimmer every now and then, whenever I suggested he get rid of the book. When he nearly killed Draco, we tried to convince him to destroy the book, but I’m convinced he secretly kept it after telling us that it was ‘gone’.”

Lucius remembered Draco’s injuries and cursed his inability to see his son during that time due to his incarceration. “Do you believe the Dark Lord had direct access to Potter through the Horcrux?”

“Yes, especially when he was angry. Harry used to get these horrible visions and dreams. It was frightening, really. What truly terrified me, however, was how he acted the times that he wore Salazar Slytherin’s locket, before we managed to destroy it.” 

“I can only imagine. The locket was rumoured to magnify the darker emotions.” Lucius did not doubt that Potter wearing the locket for any length of time would have been quite chilling to behold. 

She smiled thinly. “Not a rumour. He would snap at me for no reason. Become irritated instantly if something wasn’t happening as fast as he’d like. Look at me as if he contemplated…” she swallowed, then finished in a low voice “… killing me.” She shuddered. “I tried to wear it as much as I could but it burned my skin, and I couldn’t bear it past a certain point. Look.” She moved the lapel to the side, revealing an oval-shaped scar on the flesh just below her collarbone. “Ron had an easier time carrying it, but it affected him emotionally even more than it did Harry sometimes. It got so bad that he eventually left us.”

“Weasley left you and Potter?” Lucius had not heard this before. It did nothing to improve his opinion of the ginger-haired idiot.

“For several weeks,” she said with a grimace. “He returned right after Christmas. That's when he rescued Harry and the sword of Gryffindor. He said he instantly regretted his actions the moment he left, but it took him a while to find us again.” She shrugged and picked at a loose thread on the hem of her blouse. “Things were never really the same afterwards. Of course he apologized profusely, but I knew he’d only explode over something else later on, and poor Harry was so happy to have him back, I couldn’t object to his presence.”

“Ronald died saving Draco,” Lucius stated. He wasn’t intending to hurt her, but he saw the pain flash across her face before she shuttered it to an impassivity that revealed nothing. 

“A lot of people have died,” she murmured. She leaned her head against the wall and turned to the window. 

She had that despondent look about her again. He hated it when she mired herself in these moods. It always meant that she would cease speaking to him, as if she didn’t care whether he was in the room or not. And though he cursed to the seven Hells the fact that it mattered to him, he refused to let her lose faith… because if she did then he, in turn, would be lost. “How have you managed to stay alive this whole time?” he asked, wanting to keep her talking, keep her _there_ with him.

For a long time she didn’t answer, just stared out into the night. Then, just as he was about to give in to desperation and ask her another question, she whispered, “I don’t know. I just keep going.”

Her thought process resembled his own, Lucius reflected: keep your head down, stay alive, keep going until you can go no further.

“Sometimes I dream of giving up,” she added softly. “In dreams, life doesn’t end when you stop fighting.” She glanced at him, exhaustion plain in the dark circles beneath her eyes. “Nagini is the last Horcrux. Kill her, and the Dark Lord becomes mortal.” Her eyes closed. “End him, and we can all rest a little easier.”

Lucius watched as her features relaxed and her breathing evened out. The girl had fallen asleep sitting up. He noted the hour and was not surprised. That this was the longest he’d stayed in her chambers to date also did not go unnoticed. 

Standing, he gathered her slight body in his arms, made his way to the bed and laid her upon the mattress. He covered her with the duvet, his fingers reaching out to brush away the curled locks of hair that lay on her cheek. Before he realised what he was doing, he had bent low and pressed a chaste kiss on her forehead.

* * *

“I will be gone for three days,” Snape informed Lucius. They were in the smaller drawing room on the first floor, the morning sun slanting across the dark red carpet.

Lucius inhaled sharply. Snape had never been absent for that long since the reign of terror had begun. It could mean many things. It could mean nothing, or everything. He hated the unease that crawled up his spine. 

“Is it a mission?” he dared to ask. Though his mind told him to not trust Snape further than he could throw him, his instinct told him it would be wise to rely on the wizard.

Snape darted his eyes to the side, as if looking for something… or someone. He lowered his voice. “I will be in Scotland.”

He didn’t elaborate. He didn’t need to. They both knew that if he was headed to Scotland, there was only one place he could be going: Hogwarts. The castle might still be in shambles from the battle, but no doubt some sections had retained their structure and residual power from the founding magic. Lucius was about to ask whether Snape was in search of anything in particular, but the words died on his lips when the Dark Lord himself entered the room.

“Ah, my pet.”

Lucius recoiled inside, but gave the serpentine wizard a small smile. “My Lord.”

Instead of coming to Lucius’ side, Voldemort stood next to Snape and ran his long fingers through Snape’s greasy hair. Lucius gave the man credit that he didn’t so much as flinch. “Severus is leaving us for a time.” It was bizarre to hear the Dark Lord pout like a child. “I shall be lonely without him.”

“I am sorry, my Lord," Lucius said cautiously. "We shall all miss him. Perhaps Bellatrix may ease the loneliness of his absence?”

Voldemort stopped his attentions to Snape and narrowed his eyes at Lucius. “I tire of Bella these days. Perhaps _you_ shall take her place?” He quickly moved to Lucius’s side and threaded his talons through the platinum mane, scoring Lucius’ scalp along the way. “Yes, I think that you would suit me well while Severus is away gathering ingredients.”

Lucius gritted his teeth but did not move, not with the Dark Lord holding his hair in a death grip. “As you wish, my Lord.”

“Of course it is my wish. It is also my wish that you accompany me tonight on another hunt.”

“Yes, my Lord.” Lucius’ hair was suddenly released and he winced at the pinpoints of pain scattered across his head. 

Severus stood and gave the Dark Lord a small bow. “As timing is of the essence for gathering some of the potions materials, I must leave as soon as possible, my Lord.”

“Yes, yes. Go, my faithful servant. Return quickly.” 

As Lucius watched Snape disappear, he wondered not for the first time whose side the reclusive wizard was really on.

* * *

Three nights. Three fucking, bloody nights. 

Lucius stumbled from the Floo grate into Draco’s old chambers and collapsed on the floor, covered in muck and gore. 

“Merlin!” Granger gasped as she knelt beside him, pushing away a saturated lock of hair. “Where have you been? What happened to you?” She didn’t give him a chance to answer as she pulled him across the carpet and into the loo. 

He was vaguely aware of her running the tap for the bathtub, and tugging on his feet as she removed his boots and socks. She slid his trousers off, and he would’ve protested had he the energy to do more than grunt. When she had fully divested him of clothing, she half-lifted, half-dragged him into the tub.

When his skin touched the hot water Lucius hissed in pain. The heat seared the angry red abrasions that ran the length of his legs. He tried to withhold his whimpers of pain, but the worried look on Granger’s face proved he was unsuccessful. After a few moments of acclimating to the warmth he was able to sit up, his head hanging low. 

Water sluiced over his head and back, relaxing muscles held wire-tight for too long. “Lucius, you’re a mess,” Granger said softly. 

More water and then gentle fingers touched his hair, working to rid it of the accumulated blood, dirt and grime. He heard her wet a flannel, wring it out and lather it with soap. Lightly, she dabbed at the scrapes and bruises scattered over his back, stopping every so often to rinse the area she had just cleaned. 

“I’m going to wash your hair now,” she warned him. 

He still had not raised his head, so the water poured down like a curtain around his face. The smell of sandalwood filled his nostrils when she opened the bottle of shampoo, and then she was gently running her small fingers through the twisted strands of his hair, tugging slightly when she encountered a snarl. Her blunt nails scratched at his tender scalp, and gods above, it felt heavenly. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had taken care of him in such an intimate way. 

It was over too soon, and water poured over his head once more. When his hair was free of soap, firm fingers lifted his chin and the flannel made its way across his cheeks. The circular rubbing removed a thick patch of dried blood from around his left eye, then paused.

“What happened here?” she asked quietly, probing the long gash that ran from his eyebrow to just below his nose. 

Until now, Lucius had not dared to look the witch in the eye, ashamed at his weakness and the way he had responded to her care. He gathered what courage he possessed and hesitantly lifted his gaze to hers. “The Dark Lord thought me slow in killing a Muggle this evening,” he whispered. “He made his displeasure known.”

He expected her to gasp, to rant and rave and storm off leaving him sitting in the tub, but she only closed her eyes briefly and let out a sad sigh before continuing her ministrations. “At least he didn’t kill you.”

He stared at her in amazement. “I would have expected you to delight in the Dark Lord dispatching me.”

She frowned as she dipped the flannel in the water. “I would have. Before Harry died. I was so angry that you and your family had lived while he…” She gave him a peculiar look. “But I haven’t thought that way in a long time.” Tentatively, she reached out and traced one of his brows. “You’re different now.” Her fingers drifted over the heated skin of his cheek and down to his jaw. “You know the monster that inhabits your home. You understand the need to end his reign of terror.”

“Yes,” he whispered. He nuzzled into the palm that cupped his face. Turning slightly, he pressed his lips to the centre, a jolt of pleasure coursing through him at her sharp intake of breath.

“The water’s getting cold,” she murmured. 

Lucius pinned her with a heated stare. “So it is.” Suddenly his aches and pains – and likewise his shame – were gone. He wrapped his fingers around her slender wrist and pulled it forward, licking at her pulse point. “Shall I remove myself, then?”

She nodded mutely and he dragged her upwards as he rose from the water. He was not disappointed when her eyes trailed down his body, battered as it was, and hovered at the evidence of his desire for her. 

“Tell me, Miss Granger,” he drawled as he stepped out of the tub, his feet making puddles on the floor. “Are you an innocent?”

“Hermione,” she managed. “Please call me Hermione.”

“Hermione,” he acquiesced. He walked her backwards, crowding her against the vanity. He expected any moment to see a flash of anger, hear her object to such cavalier treatment, but she was silent. “You haven’t answered my question.” He curled his long fingers in her hair and pulled it back so that her neck was bared to his gaze. Dipping low, he inhaled the scent of her skin, his tongue sneaking out to sample the exquisite flesh. “You don’t taste innocent.”

“I-I haven’t been for long time,” she said, sounding slightly breathless. 

Her hands were on his chest and he could feel his nipples harden whenever she moved her palms across them. “Should I be jealous that my _wife’s_ innocence has been stolen?” he asked, punctuating his question by insinuating his leg between hers.

Her hands made their way around his neck and forced his head down to hers. “No. Stupid blighter's dead anyway,” she managed before slanting her mouth over his.

Her lips were persistent and he could tell that she hadn’t a lot of experience kissing, so he wrested control from her with a firm sweep of his tongue as she softened at exactly the right moment. When he cupped her jaw to deepen the kiss, he heard her moan at the intense contact. He let his hands fall from her face and hooked them under her arms to lift her onto the marble countertop, his fingers moving swiftly to unbutton her jeans and lower the zip. He slid them slowly down her legs, revelling in the sight and touch of creamy skin revealed inch by luscious inch. Freed of the denim, he spread her wide, caressing her inner thighs with his thumbs. Her enthusiastic lack of opposition enticed him beyond measure.

“We have not had a proper honeymoon,” Lucius purred, his hands inching higher until they brushed the thatch of tightly curled hair protecting her sex. 

Hermione leaned back a little, arching her spine, and licked her lips. “It would be greatly remiss of you if you didn’t indulge in your marital rights, Mr. Malfoy.”

“Lucius,” he hissed. “I like the way my name sounds on your tongue.” His index finger delved between her folds and swiped her clit. He smirked at her gasp. “So responsive.”

Her head was thrown back exposing the column of her throat and she edged forward, trying to get closer to the fingers idly stroking her nubbin. “More,” she breathed.

He slipped a finger inside her, delighting in her raspy pants. “How much more?” He crooked his finger and twisted it, causing her to moan loudly.

She rocked her hips, increasing the friction, and he knew it wouldn’t be long before she would scream her release. She might have not have been technically innocent, but he would bet a thousand Galleons that she’d had only one lover, and not a very good one at that, if she was this sensitive. 

He added two more fingers and pumped them quickly into her depths as her nails dug into his skin, bringing her to a keening wail. Her hips bucked on his drenched hand, riding out her orgasm, her body shaking like a leaf. 

When she calmed, he withdrew and helped her sit up. “Better?” He kissed her forehead. 

She nuzzled into his neck and chuckled. “Now I know why repressed women often became mad with so-called hysteria.” Her eyes were drowsy with repletion. “They didn’t have their own personal Malfoy.” 

“Of course not,” he said smugly. “I’m not some cheap imitation. Only the best will do.”

“Is that so?” She reached for his erection, only to find it fading. “I-I’m sorry,” she said, clearly embarrassed. 

He glanced down and gave a snort of amusement. Here the girl was apologising for making him forget about his own pleasure and concentrating on hers. He tapped her nose. “Nothing to be sorry for. Look.” 

There were several milky spurts lacing her thigh. He dipped his finger in one and brought it to her mouth, coating her bottom lip with the sticky fluid. She made to lick it, but he stopped her when he pressed his mouth to hers, their muffled groans filling the air.

* * *

“There is something different about you today, Lucius.”

Sweat broke out on Lucius’ brow as he faced the Dark Lord, Bellatrix sitting at the feet of his massive throne. Nagini was curled around the base of the seat, her tongue flickering every now and then to scent the air.

His master studied him intently. “Are you unwell?” 

Damn. From deep within himself, Lucius brought forth feelings of hate and rancour to fill his thoughts, keeping his feelings of satiation and pleasure – and the images of the person who had provided them – wisely blurred. He knew he was being scanned as he stood there, and hoped that the false scenarios his mind provided would be diverting enough. 

There was a malicious smirk on Voldemort’s face. “I do not like to be kept waiting, Lucius.”

“Yes, my Lord. I am... unwell today.” He gestured to the inflamed gash and swollen eye that marred his face. 

“It is no less than you deserve for your laziness!” Bellatrix snarled, then gave a short shriek when the Dark Lord fisted her hair in one of his hands. 

The other wizard waved Lucius off. “Severus returns today. He shall heal you.”

“Thank you, my Lord. You are ever gracious.”

“I know. Now go. Rest. It would not do to have you too ill to join us tomorrow night.”

Lucius nodded quickly and turned to leave. As he closed the door, he overheard the Dark Lord say to his companion, “Watch him.”

* * *

He did not visit Hermione that night, though he longed to feel her soft caresses, her sweet breath on his face, the flex of her lithe body against his own. His emotions were becoming too wrapped up in her presence to think straight and losing sight of the goal could be deadly, so it was better not to see her. 

Instead, he waited in his bedroom for Snape’s visit, which didn’t come until nearly midnight.

“You look like shit.”

Lucius glared at the dour wizard. “Pray, tell me how _you_ would look if the Dark Lord used you as his personal toy?”

Snape withdrew his wand from his robes and began weaving it along the gash. “You hesitated.” It was a statement, not a question.

“Don’t you dare give me the impression that you care what happens to me, Snape,” Lucius bit out. 

“Sit still,” Snape groused. He held Lucius’ chin in his hand to keep him immobile. “This is deeper than it appears.”

After several passes of Snape’s wand, Lucius was able to open his left eye again. He blinked repeatedly, his vision somewhat blurred. “I won’t lose my sight, will I?”

Snape angled Lucius’ face, examining it carefully. “No, but I believe it will be compromised. Spectacles may be required.”

“Spectacles?” Lucius balked. “Can’t you just heal the –”

“Dark magic, Malfoy. I have done all I can.”

“I bet you have,” Lucius muttered, seething. 

Snape stood imperiously. “And what is it that are inferring?”

Lucius looked away. “Nothing.”

“Just as I thought.” Snape gathered his cloak around himself and headed towards the door, pausing to add, “Tell Miss Granger that it will be soon.”

Lucius watched him close the door, trepidation filling his soul. Soon, was it? To kill Nagini? To end the Dark Lord? For them all to die? 

Maybe all of those things.

* * *

Instead of Flooing from his bed chamber the next evening, Lucius made his way to Draco’s rooms via the darkened gallery, contemplating much on his journey. By the time he’d arrived at the door, he had decided on a course of action that would hopefully keep them all safe. Now, if only he could keep his emotions in check, and Hermione sheltered in the shadows, they might emerge on the other side relatively unscathed. When he opened the door to see her beloved face, however, his determination faltered.

“I know I seem to be asking you this a lot but... what’s wrong, Lucius?”

He looked at Hermione, her expression concerned, and contemplated telling her several things he probably should not. How he depended on her compulsive chattering to keep him sane. How he loved the way the twilight shone upon her skin. How she looked when she said his name. The way a few strands of her hair would eventually find their way into his mouth if he stood close to her. Inappropriate things. Things he shouldn’t feel, not for a Mudblood. He grimaced at that last thought.

“Well?”

“Cease your prattle for two minutes, woman!”

She was clearly taken aback at his gruff answer. Gone was the tender look that seemed to shine in her eyes lately when she gazed upon him, replaced by the emptiness that had haunted her earlier in their relationship, and he felt lower than he had in months. 

“I... I must tell you something,” he said finally, the words sticking in his throat. “Snape has returned. He said that things should be ready soon.”

“That’s good, right?” she asked, frowning in confusion at his obvious irritation. “I mean, that’s why I’m here, right? To kill that damned snake so Snape can kill the Dark Lord in the same moment?”

“I am fully capable of killing Nagini. You need not involve yourself.”

She stared at him, nonplussed. “And how would you distract the others so that _he_ doesn’t realise what you’re doing?”

Lucius’ jaw tightened. “I would find a way.”

Head cocked to the side, Hermione studied him. “Something else is bothering you.”

“Do not presume to know me or my moods, Mudblood,” Lucius said with a sneer.

She narrowed her eyes, then rose and moved to where he stood near the hearth. “My name is Hermione. Say it.”

His lip curled. “You will not dictate –”

“Hermione.” She took his hands in her own and placed them on her cheeks. “Your wife.”

“No, not my wife… you can’t be!”

She rubbed soothing circles on the back of his hands. “Hermione. The one you care for.”

Unable to help himself, Lucius leaned his forehead against hers. “I can’t. I can't afford to care for you. They’re watching me too closely. They know something is different about me.”

Soft lips caressed his cheek. “Let them watch, Lucius. It will distract them from our true purpose.”

Shaking off her hands, he pulled her close and buried his nose in the crook of her neck. “I cannot lose another. I could not bear it. I shan’t let you risk your life when I am the one responsible.”

Hermione wrapped her arms around him and held him tight. She pressed a fervent kiss to his temple. “I’ll need your help, Lucius. I have a better chance of surviving this if you keep Bellatrix preoccupied. I know I don’t have the right to ask –”

Whatever she was about to say was muffled when Lucius covered her mouth with his. The kiss was frantic and desperate, conveying all the conflicting emotions roiling within as they attempted to consume each other.

It wasn't long before Hermione made a needy sound and Lucius felt her knees goes weak. He grabbed her waist and spun around until she was pinned against the wall, never breaking the harsh and demanding kiss. Only the need for air drove them to separate. 

One hand in her hair, the other caressing her cheek, Lucius rocked his hips into the V of her thighs, nearly sobbing at the feeling of absolute bliss the action evoked. Hermione arched into his thrust, lifting one leg to curl around his hip. 

“Tell me you want this… you want me,” Lucius pleaded, his voice hoarse.

In answer, she took his hand from her cheek and drew it down so that it cupped her hot sex. “I want everything.” She whimpered when he pressed the palm of his hand hard against her jeans. 

It was all the permission he needed. 

His hands skimmed underneath her shirt and lifted it off, loving the way her nipples perked abruptly at the sudden onslaught of cold air. He bent down and curled his tongue around the ruched peaks, delighting in her very vocal signs of appreciation. When she started pulling painfully on his hair he carried her to the bed, laying her on the duvet and divesting her of her jeans. 

She was completely bared to his gaze. And she was absolutely breath-taking in all her imperfections. She never professed to be a beauty, and he knew the label was not one she desired. Beauty, she had said during one of their talks, was for those that had the time to think on such things and no inclination to think of anything more important; seeing as she had neither of those qualities, she cared not one whit. That wasn’t what her eyes were saying at this moment, however. They were wondering if he found her worthy enough to touch. 

He would spend the rest of the night making sure she knew his answer.

He quickly shed his own clothes and slid down her body to position himself between her legs, parting her knees. His mouth watered at the sight of her dewy cleft as he placed his palms on the inside of her thighs to hold her in place. Lowering his head, he knew the first swipe of his tongue had struck exactly where she ached because her eyes fluttered shut. He repeated the action, feathering her folds and flicking her clit. He pushed her right to the edge and she cried out his name. 

“Lucius! Gods, that’s wonderful!” 

He licked the entire length of her sex with the flat of his tongue, and every muscle in her body stiffened. “You taste divine, Hermione.” He took another long, hard swipe. 

She looked down at him mischievously. “I knew you had a clever tongue, Lucius. But I’m starting to gain a new appreciation for just how talented it is.”

He returned her smirk, tilted his head, and gathered the pouty lips of her sex to briefly suckle and tease, his ears alert to the sound of her delightful whimpering. Placing both hands to the inside of her thighs, he used his thumbs to unfold the soft, swollen folds of her sex and turned his head sideways to engage her in an open-mouthed kiss, plunging his tongue deep within her walls. 

Hermione panted and writhed above him, but he was unrelenting. She threw her head back, her fingers gripping his hair tightly, as she arched off the mattress from his continued assault. He finally pulled away, only to flick his tongue rapidly over her nubbin, causing her hips to jerk as she cried out his name again. 

“Oh gods, Lucius...”

Lucius wrapped one arm around her leg and slid two fingers of his other hand inside her, pumping them in and out as he bent his head to latch his lips onto her clit to suck hard. Her back bowed as she covered her mouth with a fist and screamed her release, her hips bucking against his mouth for a long taut moment before collapsing limply. 

When she could breathe normally, Lucius placed a kiss to her mound and then moved up her body to hover over her, his cock held poised at her entrance with one hand. He teased her folds with the tip, running it up and down, dipping slightly into her wetness. 

“Please?” she whispered, and he realised he’d been teasing them both too long.

He pushed his way inside in a single smooth movement, burying himself to the hilt within her satiny heat. He watched her mouth open wide to gasp as she clawed at his back and arched into him. Merlin, she was tight, but she fit him like the finest glove. He gave a leisurely roll of his hips, driving his cock in an ever-deepening circle inside her pliant body.

“More,” she pleaded. "Oh, more..." 

Reaching both hands underneath to cup her arse, he tilted her up at an angle to keep their bodies flush, delighted when her knees bent and legs opened wide, offering herself completely. He thrust sharply, keeping the full length of his cock enshrined within the snug grip of her heaven. 

He tilted his hips, taking long, deep strokes that brought the head of his cock just out of her entrance, lightly brushing her folds with the tip before easing his length back inside. When he could hold back no longer, he pressed down on her hooded clit and set up a relentless rhythm.

“Come for me, Hermione,” he demanded.

She wrapped her arms and legs around him in a tight embrace, her cries and whimpers increasing with each drive of his hips. When she bit down on the corded muscles of his neck, he gave a few punishing thrusts and then erupted with a hoarse shout, bathing her warm depths with his seed. 

Bent low over her, Lucius continued to thrust gently, revelling in the small tremors that shook them both, until their breathing evened out. He rolled over, pulling her with him so he stayed joined with her, until Hermione was lying on top of him. He felt utterly relaxed and at peace for the first time in years, and she seemed to share his pleasant lassitude. He tugged the covers over them, wrapped her in his embrace, and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

“Sleep, love. I’ll keep watch.”

She nodded and curled into his chest, asleep in moments.

Little did they know, someone else was keeping watch as well.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a fair warning: off-screen rape/non-con in this chapter.

There was something heavy pressing down on Lucius. He idly wondered when Hermione had put on weight, but then he felt something sharp pushing against his throat and he struggled up from the depths of a sated slumber.

“Wakey, wakey,” cooed a sinister voice.

He pried open his good eye but immediately both widened to stare in horror at the person sitting on his stomach.

Bellatrix gave him a broad smile, revealing stained and partially broken teeth. “You’ve been a naughty boy, brother.” Saliva pooled at the corner of her mouth and dripped onto Lucius’ chest. 

His eyes darted sideways to see if Hermione was in the bed with him, but she was gone.

“The little lioness is with the Dark Lord,” Bella said. Her left hand held her dagger to his throat; with the right she raked fingernails sharp as claws across his pectorals. “He _so_ loves kittens.”

The edge of the blade dug into Lucius’ skin when he swallowed. “How… long?” he rasped.

She patted his cheek in a parody of affection. “Long enough.” Leaning down, she ran her tongue across the thread of crimson fluid oozing onto Lucius’ collarbone. “Just as I thought. Dirty.” She sat up and backhanded him. “That’s what you get for fucking a Mudblood slag.”

Lucius’ cheek throbbed and he wondered if she’d loosened a tooth. He could taste the copper tang of blood in his mouth. Gathering as much as he could, he spit it in Bellatrix’s face. “She’s cleaner than you!” 

She cocked her head to one side and removed the blade from his throat. Giving him a wicked smile, she laid the tip of the blade at the top of his scarred eye, and then with an abrupt motion, slashed it down, reopening the wound. 

Lucius screamed, his voice a hoarse shout of anguish, and tried to buck Bellatrix off his body, but she had apparently placed some sort of Binding Charm on him from the neck down, to prevent his thrashing. Searing heat and pain skittered across his face; the agony of his wounded eye seemed to go straight to his brain and it was all he could do to stay lucid. 

“Since you like filth, let’s see what she looks like now that the others have had a go at her.”

She yanked Lucius from the bed by his hair, naked and bloody. He wrapped his hands around the fingers embedded in his scalp and tried desperately to pry them loose, but Bellatrix’s nails were dug in deep. Gods, she was strong! His arse scrapped along the floor and out into the corridor, renewing the scrapes and gashes from several nights before. 

As they neared the top of the staircase, Lucius heard it: Hermione’s dreadful screams. The shrill cries sent a wave of horror straight to his heart and he renewed his struggle against Bellatrix. She paused on the landing long enough to land a blow to the back of his head, knocking him unconscious.

* * *

Whimpers and soft cries roused Lucius from his stupor. Blinking furiously, he tried to focus his remaining eye on the scene before him, but the images refused to remain still. His head lolled to the right and he realised he was trussed spread-eagled in the centre of the room. There were shackles on his wrists holding his arms stretched taut above his head, and cuffs on his ankles, spreading his legs wide apart.

“Bella must be losing her touch. I hadn’t expected you to wake at all, Lucius.”

With an effort Lucius lifted his head to gaze at the Dark Lord, sitting on his throne with Nagini coiled around his shoulders. Bella stood to his right, leaning against the back of the ornate chair, grinning like the lunatic she was. They looked like the perfect megalomaniac couple and he had to force down the bile rising from his stomach. The prone figure at the bottom of the dais, however, was what concerned him most.

Naked, bloody and bruised, Hermione lay curled in a foetal position, her body shaking. There wasn't a single area on her small frame that hadn’t been abused, including her hair. It was shorn close to the head, the odd frizzy strand sticking out, the only hint that she’d once had a thick mane. Blood speckled her thighs and buttocks, and the unnatural angle of her right wrist suggested they had broken her wand hand. 

Tears filled his eyes as a horrifying sense of déjà vu overcame him. It was like Narcissa all over again, just before she was engulfed in flames. A muffled sob broke from his lips. “I’m so sorry.” He was speaking to Hermione, but Voldemort took it as submission.

“Oh, come now, Lucius,” the Dark Lord said. “Your contrition leaves much to be desired. I don’t believe you’re _worthy_ of her." His eyes glittered dangerously. "Bella, make Lucius worthy.”

“With pleasure, my Lord.” She sauntered down the steps, pausing to kick Hermione viciously in the back before coming to stand behind Lucius.

He heard a flick and something that sounded thick and heavy hit the floor. He tensed, not knowing what to expect.

“Salt the whip,” Voldemort instructed.

Bella's maniacal laughter echoed into the atmosphere. Lucius heard a muttered _Aguamenti_ , followed by a spell he was not familiar with, though he had a strong suspicion of what it would do. Ridged muscles stood out on his forearms, betraying the immense strain he was putting upon them as he tried to release himself from the metal cuffs.

The first blow struck his back, extending from his shoulder to the top of his buttocks, and it burned like nothing he’d ever experienced. The leather abraded his skin; the salt water seeped into the gash and burned the flesh as hot as Fiendfyre. Lucius clenched his jaw and tried not to scream, but by the third lash, he couldn’t hold back his torturous bellows.

“Thirty lashes should bring him down to the level of a Mudblood, don’t you think, Bella?”

Bellatrix paused. “Only thirty?” Another crack and Lucius let out a groan. “I think my Lord should make it fifty, at least!”

Dear gods, not fifty. Lucius doubted he’d stay conscious past fifteen. He tensed when he heard the whistle of the whip and shouted when it landed on the back of his thighs. 

“Fifty it shall be. You’ve served me well, Bella. Ah, Severus. I’m glad you decided to join us.”

Lucius turned his head to see the dark wizard approaching, and earned a blow across his cheek from Bella for his efforts. He felt blood ooze from the wound, sweat running into it and stinging like the bite of a scorpion, and ducked his face away from the next blow. He caught Snape's furious gaze as the man glanced between Lucius and Hermione on the floor. Could that glimmer in Snape’s eyes be pity? 

Snape turned his attention to Voldemort. “I’m sorry I was delayed, my Lord.”

Voldemort waved off Snape’s apology. “It is of no consequence.” He rose, petted Nagini, and came down the steps of the dais. “What do you think of my new diversion?”

Snape gave Lucius a brief glance, flinching ever so slightly as another blow was meted out, then returned his attention to Voldemort. “Interesting. Any particular reason for this… untidiness?”

“He was keeping that girl hidden, in _my_ house!”

“ _My_ house,” Lucius managed, his voice slurred with pain. Another crack of the whip, and he would have fallen to his knees if the iron manacles had not kept him upright.

The Dark Lord’s eyes narrowed. “Is that so? _Crucio!_ ”

Every wound on Lucius’ body increased its intensity a hundred-fold, and he arched his back from the current of agony rippling through his body. Every stroke of the whip was like a white-hot brand seared into his skin. He knew it was only a matter of moments before his eyes would roll back in his head and the pain would cease forever. If he was going to die, he wished for a cleaner death than this.

“My Lord, if I may be so bold,” Snape suggested, “If your goal is to kill Lucius, then by all means, continue. However, if you wish to go on punishing him, you will need to stop before he perishes. The man is a milksop, and not used to such rough handling.”

Voldemort studied Snape closely, then waved his wand and ended the curse. “Wise, my friend, wise. Cease, Bella.” 

Through a fog of pain Lucius heard the soggy sound of the whip dragging on the floor. “But, my Lord –”

“Release him.” 

Broken as he was, Lucius still found the strength to shudder at the sound of that voice. Panting, he whimpered as Bellatrix unlocked the shackles around his ankles, so sensitive was his flesh. He sagged, unable to stand, and the manacles cut into his wrists from the sudden dead weight. 

“Severus, take them both to the dungeon. We’ll continue our sport tomorrow.”

Lucius felt himself lifted, the cuffs removed, carried somewhere. Every nerve, muscle and tendon in his body protested even this gentle treatment. Lucius opened his eyes after a few moments and saw they had reached the top of the staircase that led to the cellar.

“Keep… Hermione… safe.” His voice sounded like someone else's. Someone old. Someone weak.

“Shut up, you fool!” Snape hissed. “It’s your blatant refusal to obey me that caused this.”

“What… happened?”

The iron gate swung open and Snape deposited him on a thin pallet. “I told you not to stay the night with Miss Granger, yet you did. You know that the Notice-Me-Not Charm dissipates if someone follows you, yet you paid no attention. You entered Draco’s chambers via the door, not the Floo, as you were previously instructed. Bella was therefore able to follow you and gain access to the rooms.”

“Bloody hell,” Lucius managed to gasp. "All my fault..."

“Precisely.” Snape stood up to leave but Lucius grabbed his trouser leg. 

“Is she alive?”

Snape looked down his nose at Lucius. “For now. However, I suspect she wishes it were otherwise.” He shook off Lucius’ hand and left.

Shifting to his side, Lucius groaned in misery. The spiky straw and rough canvas poked and scraped at his raw skin. Though he desperately wanted to see Hermione as soon as Snape returned, he could not help but close his eyes in exhaustion. Just for a moment, he thought, just to rest.

* * *

The first thing Lucius became aware of was a warm body lying next to him. The second was that the warm body was Hermione. The third, when he tried to move, was that he was practically immobile with pain. 

“No,” came a pathetic whimper.

Lucius opened his good eye and found that Hermione was curled into a ball beside him, as naked as he was, her breathing shallow and her face so pale it was almost grey. “Hermione?” he whispered. 

She froze, then buried her head in her arms as if she were fending off blows. 

Lucius tentatively touched her shoulder, dismayed to find her skin fiery. Fever. Damn, no wonder she was shaking like a leaf. “Hermione, can you hear me?”

She raised her head and opened her eyes a little. “Lucius?”

Her face was a mass of bruises and cuts. Tears seeped from the corners of his eyes at the sight of what had been done to her. Cautiously, he laid a palm on her face and stroked a thumb across her cheek. “I’m so sorry.”

She winced at the contact but allowed his hand to remain there. “It’s my fault.”

He frowned. “That’s preposterous. Nothing you could’ve done would have invited that sort of torture.”

“I exist. That is all the excuse they need.”

He wanted to refute that, but knowing his fellow Death Eaters it was all too true. “What…” He swallowed, barely able to push the words past his lips. “What did they do to you?”

She averted her gaze. “Dolohov and Lestrange… took turns.” There were no tears in her eyes and Lucius realised that she was lapsing into shock.

“How badly are you hurt?” When she didn’t respond, he waved his hand in front of her field of vision. “Hermione?” She made no response. “Damn.”

Her shaking increased and, not knowing what else to do, Lucius pulled her body close. Immediately she started moaning and crying out, punching his chest, clearly desperate to get away.

“She is in no fit state for your amorous intentions, Malfoy,” drawled Snape from outside the cell. 

_How little effort it would take to hate him_ , Lucius thought tiredly. _I wish I could muster it._

Snape opened the gate, made his way over to them and knelt down to inspect Hermione. He ran his hands over her arms and legs swiftly but lightly. “The scaphoid and lunate bones in her wrist are shattered, her temperature is high and rising, and I believe she has multiple internal injuries.” 

He withdrew two vials of greenish liquid from his breast pocket, handing one to Lucius. Placing his hand gently on Hermione's chin, Snape gradually pried open her mouth and poured the contents of the other vial down her throat. She spluttered and coughed, but swallowed most of it. He waited a moment, then took the vial that Lucius held and repeated the action. Soon afterwards, Hermione's shaking eased and she drifted into a deep slumber.

“She will sleep for several hours. Try not to jostle her too much,” Snape muttered. 

“Is there anything for me?”

"Think, man!" Snape sneered. “If I were to heal you, I would incur the Dark Lord’s wrath. He enjoys meditating on others' pain. Since I need my wits about me in order to get us all out of this mess alive, I shall forego that experiment in testing his patience.” He rose, retrieved a small wad of cloth from his trouser pocket, enlarged it, and threw it to Lucius. “This is the best I could do. See that she is dressed before morning.”

Lucius paid no heed to Snape’s departure. Upon inspecting the bundle, he found a pair of black linen trousers for him and what looked like a long, white chemise-type dress for Hermione. It wasn’t much, just a mere slip of a garment, if that, but better than nothing. He hoped he wouldn’t cause her further injury when he tried to put it on her; for now he simply spread the thin fabric over her sleeping body, not wanting to disturb her. 

He stumbled to his feet, biting his lower lip to keep from moaning as a symphony of aches played across his body. He managed to get the trousers to his calves before he broke out in a cold sweat. Fighting the nausea that threatened to overtake him, he quickly pulled the garment to his hips and then collapsed on the pallet next to Hermione. The gashes on his back burned as the wounds rubbed against the fabric. He spared the woman next to him a brief glance before blackness came over him again.

* * *

When Lucius awoke next, the pain had not eased. In fact, the edges of the cuts had hardened and cracked further, parched from the saltwater. Mustering the fortitude to work through the agony, he sat up and gently pulled Hermione into his lap. She whimpered softly and began to struggle.

“Shhh, Hermione. It’s me, Lucius.”

This seemed to quiet her. He carefully touched her face, which wasn’t as swollen thanks to Snape’s potions. He caressed her cheeks with tender fingers, prompting her to slowly open her eyes.

“Where am I?” Her voice was rough with overuse, from screaming for help that had never come.

“We’re in the cellar. Snape brought us here.” Lucius cradled her close. “He gave you something to heal your internal injuries. He didn't dare heal the visible ones, it would be too obvious.”

She nodded and let him hold her for a few moments. “What happens now?”

Lucius pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I honestly don’t know.”

“What is this?” She fingered the white slip. 

“Snape wanted you clothed before he came for us this morning.” Lucius helped her sit up, his lips trembling at the sight of the bruises blotching purple and green on her back. He touched them lightly. “I’m so very sorry,” he whispered.

She shied away from him, pulling the slip to cover her chest. “There was nothing you could’ve done.” She donned the makeshift dress and then sat down, wrapping her arms around her knees and rocking back and forth silently.

Lucius knew the witch was hurting, had been emotionally and physically battered and violated, but he had no idea how to comfort her. Not that she would welcome him at that moment. “I admit that I am probably the last person you want to speak with right now," he said slowly, "but I understand the concept of what happened to you, if not the actuality."

Chin resting atop her knees, she murmured, “You know nothing.” She turned her head away. 

“Tell me then,” he pleaded softly.

“Leave me alone, Lucius. I don’t want to remember right now.” She tugged at the shorn hair on her nape.

Lucius was saved from pleading with her to look at him by the appearance of Snape. He looked ragged and even a little fearful as he opened the gate and entered. 

“Miss Granger,” he acknowledged quietly. “If you could stand, please.”

“Where are you taking her?” Lucius demanded, his heart starting to beat in triple time.

“Don’t worry, Malfoy. You’ll be front and centre.” Snape motioned for Lucius to stand as well. He handed Hermione a long, sharp white object. “This tooth was taken from the Basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets at Hogwarts.”

She turned it over in her hands, examining it. “How did you know about this?” she asked, her eyes narrowed.

“That is for me to know and you never to find out," he said grimly. "Now, there is a fold in the skirt of your dress. Hide it there. I cannot guarantee that Nagini will be near you so this is just a precaution. But if she comes near, strike hard and fast on the top of her head.” 

He handed Lucius a black-handled athamé. Looking closely, Lucius saw that the runes for ‘righteous power’ and ‘victory’ were carved into the hilt. 

“Place it in your trouser pocket,” Snape instructed Lucius. “It is the only weapon I can give you at the moment. I strongly suggest that you avail yourself of a wand if you find one lacking an owner.”

Snape turned and looked over his shoulder, stared at the entrance for several minutes, and then nodded. Lucius exchanged a puzzled glance with Hermione, but before they could question Snape, he returned his attention to them and bowed his head. 

“Lucius,” he said in such a low voice Lucius had a hard time hearing him. “In my chamber, there is a box hidden behind the fourth bookshelf. In it, you will find all that you need.”

“What do you mean? Need for what?” Lucius, already on edge, felt his pulse increase exponentially. 

Snape ignored him and turned to Hermione. “I regret I was not present to stop the atrocities that were visited upon you last evening. I won’t ask your forgiveness, for I do not deserve it. But know that I would have intervened, had I been here.” 

Hermione took Snape’s hand and squeezed it. “I know you would have. And there is nothing to forgive.” 

Light suddenly flooded the stairwell and Lucius tensed, sensing the same swift reaction in the other two. “Snape! What is taking so long?”

“Don’t test my patience, Bella.” Snape waved his wand and a set of wrist cuffs appeared on both Lucius and Hermione. “This way.” He led them past the gate and up the stairs, his eyes darting every now and then into the darkness.

* * *

“The white does not suit you, Mudblood.”

Hermione said nothing and stared straight ahead, not reacting to the Dark Lord’s taunt. Lucius felt a flicker of pride at her resistance.

“Bad kitty has no tongue!” Bella laughed. She circled around Hermione, poking with her wand. “I bet I can make puss howl.” Rodolphus, standing to Voldemort's left, sniggered appreciatively.

Nagini was coiled next to Voldemort’s throne, but now Lucius saw her head rise, her tongue flicking like mad, scenting the air. The Dark Lord noticed her movement and reached over to pet her. She would not be soothed, however, and became increasingly agitated. Her long body quivered, as if gathering itself for a strike. 

“My Lord,” Snape said in a fawning tone, “Perhaps Nagini is hungry?” He gave Hermione a calculating look. “I know it is not her usual fare, but would the Mudblood will do?”

“Excellent idea, Severus!” Voldemort waved Nagini towards Hermione and Lucius had to restrain himself as the serpent made its way down the dais steps.

And still, Hermione did not react. No movement, no awareness of impending danger could Lucius see in her countenance. She simply stood there, immobile as a statue. She didn’t even respond when the snake twined around her feet, curling its way up her legs.

Lucius made as if to move towards her, wanting to stop this madness, but the tip of a wand at the back of his head prevented him from completing the first step. “I still owe you thirty-nine lashes,” Bella purred in his ear. 

“You can’t collect them if I’m dead,” Lucius said with a bravado that he didn’t feel.

She laughed. “I can if I make you an Inferi.”

Nagini coiled around Hermione’s hips and then stopped, swivelled around to face the Dark Lord, as if sensing impending danger, and hissed. She swayed her head back and forth uncertainly then began making her way back down Hermione’s body, but the witch had other plans.

“Not this time,” Hermione growled. With a sudden swift movement she raised her hands high and plunged the Basilisk tooth straight down into Nagini’s brain, just behind the eyes. 

“ _No!_ ” Voldemort shouted, his wand raised. 

Several things happened simultaneously. Bellatrix leaped towards Lucius with a cry of rage while her husband Rodolphus turned on Hermione. Lucius ducked out of the way just as Bellatrix let loose the Killing Curse and saw it scorch the wall behind Voldemort’s throne. He spun quickly, athamé in hand, and sliced at his former sister-in-law. She jumped out of the way barely in time, her expression incredulous.

“Where did you get that blade?” she hissed.

“I pried it from the stinking corpse of your black-hearted mother!” Lucius snarled and swiped at her again. 

“Ha! You couldn’t have. I killed my mother and I still have the bloody axe to prove it!”

A stray hex caught Lucius across the thigh and he crumpled to the floor. “Insane bitch!”

Bella leaped on him like a fox on a rabbit, pinning Lucius down with her knees as she straddled his chest. “Why, brother, you say the sweetest things.” She took aim with her wand, pointing it at Lucius’ heart, and then suddenly, her eyes grew wide and she slumped forward.

Lucius angled his head to see who or what had caused Bella to fall, but saw only Snape engaged with Voldemort… and losing ground. He looked for Hermione and saw her avoiding Rodolphus as best she could, covered in what he assumed was Nagini’s blood. The snake lay motionless several feet away.

Not pausing to think, Lucius pried Bella’s wand from her grasp, and crawled out from underneath her body. He limped towards Hermione, dispatched Rodolphus with a Killing Curse, and collapsed at her feet. 

She bent low and winced. “Lucius, you’re bleeding badly.” 

He glanced down at his leg and paled. Bella's hex might have nicked an artery with as much blood as was soaked through his trousers and onto the floor. He handed Hermione Bella’s wand. “Here, fix it if you can. I’m too exhausted to manage a healing spell.”

She sliced the fabric and peeled it back from his thigh, grimacing. “Hold still.” 

Lucius heard her mutter an _Episkey_ and several other charms; his thigh burned for a moment but he could see it healing as the flesh began knitting itself back together. He was about to stand when he saw Dolohov and four other Death Eaters enter the room. Hermione had her back to the door but she caught Lucius’ eye and nodded, apparently sensing their approach. 

Turning quickly, she yelled, “ _Reducto!_ ” They both watched as Dolohov flew backwards and crashed against the wall, landing on the floor with a sickening thud. 

Lucius glanced around to determine the position of the other Death Eaters. They had formed a loose circle around the combat still raging between Snape and Voldemort and were paying no attention to anything else for the moment. He grabbed Hermione’s hand and dragged her to an alcove that he knew had a hidden passage. He had never revealed its whereabouts to anyone, not even Draco or Narcissa, but it would provide Hermione safe passage to the centre of the hedge maze in the east gardens. 

“What are you doing?” she objected, refusing to be pushed into the darkened corridor.

“I can’t guarantee your safety if you remain here. Now go!” 

She gripped Lucius’ wrist firmly with her unbroken hand. “Not without you!”

“I must stay and help Snape. We owe him our lives.” Another hard shove, which she fought against.

“I can help too! I have Bellatrix’s wand and you can use Dolohov’s.”

Lucius pulled her close and wrapped one arm around her shoulders, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Please go, Hermione. If you care for me, even the merest inkling, I beg of you to go now.”

“Hermione, do as he says.”

Both Hermione and Lucius looked around for the owner of the disembodied voice, finding no one. The voice was familiar though, sending chills up Lucius’ spine. 

Sensing she was still reluctant to leave, Lucius snatched Bella’s wand from Hermione and forced her inside the narrow passageway, firmly shutting the door after her. He could only hope she would make her way through to the other side, and await him in the family sepulchre at the heart of the hedge maze. Maybe she would even forgive him his selfishness in wanting her to remain alive and safe.

With the entrance to the passage secured, his attention turned back to Snape and Voldemort as they traded curses, hexes and spells, both obviously attempting to inflict as much damage as they could. The remaining Death Eaters lay scattered amongst the ruins of the chamber, presumably caught in the cross-fire of the intense battle. 

“Give up, Snape,” Voldemort snarled, hurling another curse at the weakening wizard. “The only person that could have killed me is long dead. You will never win!”

Bloody and bruised, Snape aimed his wand once more at the Dark Lord. “I would rather die on my knees fighting you than on my feet in your service again.”

“Wish granted. _Avada Kedavra!_ ”

A jet of green light flashed towards Snape, but he was not there to meet it. Instead, he was violently pushed to the side by some unseen force, landing on the floor, unmoving. Voldemort whirled about in confusion for a brief moment in search of his unseen opponent, but Lucius, whose attention remained on the fallen figure, noticed a slight shimmer hovering above Snape’s prone form. 

Lucius dared not make a sound, fearful of drawing the Dark Lord’s attention to himself, but he couldn’t help the gasp of astonishment that escaped his lips when the shimmer changed its texture and fell to the floor, revealing a pale, gaunt, but very much alive Harry Potter.

“No!” Voldemort hissed. “You are merely a substitute, a Polyjuice replica. The real Harry Potter is dead!”

“Care to prove that, Tom?” Harry looked like a defending angel, standing protectively over Snape. “You have no more Horcruxes left. No more pieces of your soul with which to bargain for immortality. This is it. Your time has run out.”

“Insolent impostor!” 

Voldemort's wand arm came flashing down, but the moment the Dark Lord cast, Harry did the same, their spells fusing together in a clash of power that was blinding to behold. Not once did the boy falter, even where lesser wizards would have crumpled. Which reminded Lucius of Snape. 

Edging around the embattled pair, Lucius made his way to where Snape lay. He knelt down beside him and felt for a pulse. There, but faint. It would do no good to try and heal Snape himself; he was too exhausted to conjure, and if he attempted anything, he might cause permanent damage to himself and Snape.

The struggle between Harry and Voldemort rose to a climax as the Dark Lord reared back, casting the Killing Curse, while Harry countered with Expelliarmus. Then it abruptly ceased. The silence in the aftermath was thick with apprehension. Only when Voldemort collapsed in a pile of ashes did Lucius’ heart thud in his chest with tentative joy. 

Gone. Voldemort was gone. For good, this time. 

Lucius gave a strangled half-yelp, half-sob that conveyed his utter relief and unrelenting grief at all that had passed. He didn’t even realise he was crying until a shaky hand landed on his shoulder.

“Is he okay?” Harry asked, peering at Snape.

“Alive,” Lucius muttered with a sniff. “Barely.”

Harry then did a most peculiar thing. The boy sat and lifted Snape’s head to rest in his lap, stroking back the sweat and blood-soaked strands that obscured Snape’s face. 

“He kept me alive and hidden for almost a year,” Harry said softly. “I was in a coma. I guess time passes differently in the Afterlife. What seemed like an hour or two there, turned out to be months here.” Green eyes met his. “I’m sorry about Narcissa and Draco.”

Lucius acknowledged his apology with a nod. “I didn’t know that Snape was helping you.”

Harry caressed the sallow cheeks of the man in question. “I’m still not a hundred percent healed, but Severus told me what happened with Hermione and you, and I knew I couldn’t wait until I was in top form. It had to end.”

Snape stirred in that moment and slowly opened his eyes, which widened when he beheld Harry looking down at him. “Is it… done?” he whispered.

“Yes,” Harry replied quietly, smiling. 

“Was it enough?”

Tears filled Harry’s eyes as he nodded. “We’re alive because of you. You can rest now.”

Lucius was in awe at the scene before him. Two of the most embittered enemies he’d ever known were now allies, perhaps more than that if what he was witnessing was anything to go by. 

Deciding to give them their privacy, he rose. “I must find Miss Granger and hope that she isn’t too angry with me.”

Harry grinned. “Just promise her your library and she might forgive you.”

“Which one?” 

“All of them.” Harry sobered his expression. “Tell her I’m sorry I couldn’t get here sooner.”

Lucius grimaced. “I think we’ll both be saying that a lot in the future. It was my carelessness that led to her… abuse. I doubt I’ll forgive myself for my lack of attentiveness.” He pointed to the hallway. “Snape’s chamber is down the corridor and to the left if you wish to rest and see to his needs. Whatever I have is at your disposal.”

“Thank you, I will.” Harry gently lifted Snape’s head from his lap and stood. “You’d better go to Hermione.” With that, the boy levitated Snape's unconscious form to follow him and he disappeared down the corridor.

* * *

Hermione was sitting on a marble bench staring at the weeping willows that swayed in the slight spring breeze, when Lucius found her. She looked chilled, so he surreptitiously cast a Warming Charm on her.

She blinked rapidly and then frowned. “I’m very cross with you right now, Lucius Malfoy.” 

He had anticipated her anger, yet he still winced at her tone. “I refused to risk you in that way, Hermione. You and I were both compromised. However, if the outcome had been unfavourable, you would have remained safely hidden until you could have made your escape.”

“And you?”

“Do you really think I would’ve survived once my true loyalties were discovered?”

She gave him a shrewd look and shook her head. They both knew what awaited them if the Dark Lord remained in power. She touched her lacerated lip with her tongue, probing it. “Voldemort?”

Lucius sat down next to her and took her right hand gently in his. “First things first, shall we?” Knowing it would sap what little magical reserve he had at the moment, but not caring in the least, he murmured numerous charms and healing spells to mend her broken wrist as best he could without Skele-Gro.

Though he knew it was painful, she did not cry out, and his esteem for her rose several notches. When he was done, she wriggled her hand, flinching every now and then. “Thank you,” she murmured.

Was she blushing? Lucius thought it fetching, but given the state of things, he refrained from saying so. “Shall we go inside? There’s much to discuss.”

“But Voldemort?”

Lucius smiled. “Dead.”

She closed her eyes in apparent relief, then opened them. “And Severus?” she asked apprehensively.

“Alive, though only just.” He took her hand again, rubbing circles on the back. “There is someone you need to see.”

He led her out of the maze and back to the Manor. Upon reaching Snape’s chambers, Lucius knocked on the door. He heard someone approach and took hold of Hermione’s elbow in case she fainted.

When the door opened and revealed a weary Harry, Hermione screamed and launched herself at the young man, both of them tumbling to the floor. Lucius stepped inside and sat in a chair beside the bed to observe the reunion. 

It was sloppy, messy and loud. Both of them hugged each other tightly, letting go only a little so that they could speak face-to-face, talking rapidly and non-stop. They exchanged a plethora of kisses, a few of which Lucius thought were a little _too_ friendly. But then he glanced at Snape, lying on the bed and watching them as well, a contented look on his face. 

And then Lucius saw it: Hermione… in tears. It was the first time since the night she was captured that he’d seen the girl cry. 

“They’ll be at this all night,” Snape rasped. 

“Perhaps,” Lucius agreed quietly. He honestly couldn’t begrudge them. “Do you still wish me to look behind your fourth bookshelf?”

Snape snorted, shuddering. “Merlin, no. In fact, I may Obliviate you when I get my strength back.”

Lucius smirked. “Good. I have no desire to know how honourable you truly are. Bloody Gryffindor in Slytherin clothing if you ask me.”

“Take that back,” Snape groused, lapsing into a coughing fit. 

“You’re in no condition to make demands.” Lucius stood and laid his hand on Snape’s shoulder. “Thank you though, my friend. For everything.”

Lucius paused at the door, watching Hermione and her dearest friend. He had no right to ask her to stay, none at all, but his heart ached when he thought that she might leave when Harry did. For all that had been done to her, for all the prejudices that had been held against her, for all that she had suffered at his own hands, he could not ask her to stay. The bond that united them for a year and a day still throbbed beneath his skin, reminding him that whatever they had shared was only temporary, a means to an end. 

But he still wanted her to stay. 

He cleared his throat, attracting Hermione’s attention. “Good night,” he said. Not waiting for her reply, he slipped out the door. Halfway up the staircase, he felt a hand slip into his.

“If I didn’t know you better, Lucius, I would say you are running away.”

He paused on the top step. “I am merely counting my losses and trying to save face,” he said bluntly, his fingers twining with hers despite his words. “I cannot compete with the Boy Who Refuses To Die.”

“No one is asking you to compete with Harry,” she assured him as they turned and walked down the long hallway. “He has his own interests, I have mine.”

“Is that so?” Lucius paused in front of the door to his bedchamber. “And what are your... interests?”

She tilted her head in a thoughtful pose. “Rebuilding the wizarding world, for a start.”

Lucius arched a brow. “Yes, of course.” What a fool, to think that he could possibly be one of those ‘interests’. 

He opened the door and entered his bedroom, assuming – hoping – that Hermione would follow him inside. She hovered in the hallway, however, twisting her fingers nervously.

“Well?” Lucius asked, afraid to give voice to his wish.

She looked askance, then at the grand bed. “Would it be all right if I stayed with you tonight?”

His heart leapt, and then he realized fully what her plea meant. She’d been violated in the most horrific of ways, and yet now she was anxious to be with him. Sleep beside him. It must have taken great courage just to verbalise the request.

Amazing as it was, she _trusted_ him.

He nodded and held out his hand, grateful when she took it. “There are some gowns in the armoire. The bath is through there. Take as long as you need.”

She chose a dark blue gown from the collection and disappeared into the loo. Lucius sat on the edge of the bed, wincing from the wounds still plaguing his body. He contemplated taking a shower once Hermione was done, but exhaustion crept over him and he stretched out on the bed, his eyes closing before he knew it.

He was awakened by gentle hands on his back, lightly touching each gash with a cloth saturated with what smelled like dittany. Oh, the feeling was blessed relief. 

“I’ll need to ask Snape for more dittany tomorrow. I haven’t yet healed the marks on your legs and low back,” Hermione said. She handed him a soft cotton shirt. “You should wear this to bed. It won’t snag on the scabs as they heal.”

Carefully, he pulled the shirt over his head and sighed. The fabric didn’t tug or pull at his enflamed skin, making it much easier to obtain some semblance of sleep. He thanked her and they both burrowed under the duvet, he muttering a _Nox_ to douse the lights.

He wanted to touch her, cradle her close, but he feared she wouldn’t let a man that close to her ever again. Barring Potter, of course. And that thought brought a surge of jealousy such as he had never felt before. She had mentioned that there was no competition between him and Potter, yet when it came right down to it, he could visualise her walking hand-in-hand with the young, powerful and dignified wizard so clearly he had to close his eyes against the terrible ache in his heart.

“May I hold you?” he finally whispered, his heart overtaking his mind.

She turned towards him and budged closer, burying herself against his body. His arms enveloped her in his embrace and he laid his head atop hers. 

“Thank you,” he said softly.

Her response was to nuzzle his chest. Just when he thought she had drifted off, she murmured, “You’ll have to give me some time, Lucius. I know what they did to me was wrong, but...”

“You know it wasn’t your fault,” he said, knowing that no words of his could possibly hope to heal the injuries she'd suffered.

She shrugged. “To them, my blood status was an excuse. I don’t compare what they did to me with what you and I shared. But I just feel… dirty.”

Lucius kissed her brow, hating Dolohov and the others that much more. “You’re not. They could never sully your soul.”

Her slender arms wrapped around him and she buried herself further into his chest. “I need to come to terms with that,” she said, her words muffled. “Just give me time.”

“You can have all the time that you need,” he reassured her. Hope flared bright as phoenix fire. Did he dare voice his desire for her to remain? What was the worst that could happen? His hopes crushed into fragments too small to see, that’s what. Bloody hell. In for a penny, in for a pound. He took a deep breath, then spoke. “Will you stay? Here, with me?”

She touched the scarred side of his face and smiled. “We’re married, aren’t we?”

“Only for a year and a day. After that, the bond dissolves, and you’ll be free.”

“Oh.” Her thumb stroked one of the healing gashes on his back. “Do you think…”

He pressed his lips to her temple. “Yes?”

“Do you think you could come to like me?”

Like her? _Like_ her? If he didn’t know better, he would say he was half in love with the witch already. “I like you very much, Hermione.”

“Oh! Well, that’s good.”

Did she have to sound so surprised? He rolled his eyes and yawned. The woman was going to be the death of him, eventually. “Go to sleep, Hermione. You need it.”

She nodded and settled against him, her breathing slowing. He was about to give in to slumber’s deep pull when he heard her whisper, “I’m quite fond of you, too.”

He smiled to himself. It was going to be a very rough road ahead for all of them. The healing process was just beginning. But Lucius would be there, every step of the way, now that he knew he was worth something, that he was worth saving. Hermione had shown him that. 

He planned on taking the rest of his life to return the favour.


End file.
